Dragon Age: Reckoning
by K.E.B.P
Summary: My first attempt at fanfiction. Story assumes that events from Dragon Age: Origins and Dragon Age: Awakening happened as they did in-game, but with a character that I created as the Warden.
1. Prologue

"And so is the Golden City blackened

With each step you take in my Hall.

Marvel at perfection, for it is fleeting.

You have brought Sin to Heaven

And doom upon all the world."

- Canticle of Threnodies 8:13

The Chantry teaches us that it is the hubris of Men which brought the Darkspawn into our world. The mages had sought to usurp Heaven, but instead, they destroyed it. They were cast out; twisted and cursed by their own corruption. They returned as monsters-the first of the Darkspawn. They became a Blight upon the lands, unstoppable and relentless.

The Dwarven Kingdoms were the first to fall, and from the Deep Roads, the Darkspawn drove at us again and again, until finally, we neared annihilation. Until the Grey Wardens came...

Men and women from every race; warriors and mages, barbarians and Kings. The Grey Wardens sacrificed everything to stem the tide of darkness-and prevailed.

It has been four centuries since that victory, and we have kept our vigil. We have watched and waited for the Darkspawn to return, but those who once called us heroes have forgotten. We are few now, and our warnings have been ignored for too long. We may even be too late, for I have seen with my own eyes what lies on the horizon.

Maker, help us all.

-page torn from the journal of a lost Warden


	2. Chapter 1

Kaetryn awoke then, screaming and thrashing in her bed. She sat up, muscles aching and clothes drenched in sweat, yet she shivered with chattering teeth. Her throat was dry and raw from screaming. She breathed deeply and then reached for the cup of water beside her bed. The water was cool and soothing, and she felt the vision start to lose its grip on her mind. Sighing in relief, her eyes flicked to the modest window at the far side of the room. The moonlight poured in, pure and white against her pale skin. Beyond the window, it illuminated the Anderfels that lay on the horizon. The barren grasslands held little beauty and no comfort or reassurance. No trees or twinkling lights of a village, just the endless rocky steppe with a starless backdrop.

The moon did little to brighten her room, instead preferring to cast shadows whose darkness threatened to swallow her in bed. The stone walls of her chambers felt confining; like they were containing the darkness as a flask would a liquid, so she padded over to the chest at the foot of her bed, preferring to be in the bitter cold than to drown in shadow. She rummaged through it until she found the least ornate set of robes: blue and white silk with navy and gold embellishments. Throwing her damp bedclothes on the floor she dressed quickly, the desire to leave getting stronger with each passing second. She tied the silver sash loosely around her waist and fastened the buckle that bore the Commander of the Grey's symbol. The sash itself was emblazoned with Tevinter runes depicting magic and protection. She felt the effect almost immediately, bolstering her resolve and strengthening her connection to the Fade.

The wind rattled the glass in the window, drawing her attention and suddenly she was aware how far north Weisshaupt was; far from anything she would have once considered familiar. As an after thought, she slid her feet into some simple leather shoes and threw on a long, thick navy overcoat made of a soft, thick felt. As she walked towards the door and her escape she passed by a vanity. She glanced in the mirror and the moonlight accentuated the exhaustion in her face and the tangles in her matted hair. "Such pretty clothes on such an unkempt girl", she thought to herself, amused. It was a tradition she had at first resented, but eventually came to appreciate; mages always wore the most ridiculously intricate attire. Even in their most drab and uninteresting moments, any mage could shame even the wealthiest Orlesian lady.

However she was a Ferelden woman at heart and that meant she would keep her appearance as simple and as practical as she could. She smoothed her tangled and sweat-dampened hair, pulling and weaving it into a neat auburn braid that ran down her back. She splashed cold water on her face, trying to gather her composure, but her nightmare refused to be forgotten. In the mirror she could see the moonlight made her green eyes looked washed out and lifeless. With a grunt, she forced the vision from her mind and turned away from the mirror. With a last glance at the pale moon she grabbed her staff, which had been leaning by her bed and turned for the door.

But she stopped. "Where am I going?" she asked herself aloud. She stood there to ponder the question, running her fingers over the worn wood. It was smooth and light, but hard has steel. Ironbark. The staff had been a gift from the Dalish to her mentor many years before she was born. It was crafted from a fallen tree and yet the branch looked like it had never been cut or whittled-like it had always been a magical instrument and never once a living thing. The long shaft turned into intricate and twisted tendrils that enclosed a large piece of green amber that shone with gold and black flecks of something from an ancient time. Kaetryn could feel the magic swirling and churning inside the gem and it reminded her of the waves crashing against the port in Denerim on a stormy night. She was reminded of Casturn then, the old man that had taken an exiled little girl and made her his apprentice so long ago. It made her smile.

He was dead. That reality weighed down on her heavily. With a sigh she resumed her retreat from the darkness. "I need a drink," she snapped, pushing through the door and slamming it closed a little too forcefully. Her mistake made her cringe. "I'd better be quiet," she scolded herself. This wasn't her tower at Vigil's Keep and there were many men here who were probably trying desperately to get back to sleep after her incessant screaming.

She looked up and down the hallway. It was empty and lit dimly by a few strategically placed torches. "Now!" she muttered. "Which way to the nearest tavern?" Silence was her answer. Just then a door opened at the end of the hallway and a half-naked, giggling girl scurried out of it, a lithe and equally half-naked young Elf not far behind her. He chased her until she noticed Kaetryn and stopped short, suddenly fearful. She stared at Kaetryn's staff and robes and bit her lip, shrinking behind the roguish boy as if she expected to be turned into a toad.

"I beg... your pardon, ser mage," squeaked the girl, her thick accent and fancy blonde curls betraying her Orlesian birth. Kaetryn raised an eyebrow and turned her attention to the lad. He bowed slightly, making no effort to cover himself up.

"Evening, Warden-Commander! I hope we didn't wake you", he said with a smirk as he nudged the girl cowering behind him. She flushed, embarrassment filling her face.

Kaetryn rolled her eyes. "Not at all", she sighed. "I was wondering if you could tell me where I could get a drink at this hour."

"Of course! That is one of my many talents!" he cheered. "Head down this hallway; the doorway on your left is the stairwell. Go down three flights and follow the hallway on your right until you see a big room with a crotchety old woman and a mangy old cat," he said matter-of-factly, pointing in the opposite direction. Kaetryn glanced forward and inclined her head in thanks. She brushed past them, ignoring their flippant behaviour and headed towards a stone archway with a long, winding set of stairs. She began to descend but only got three steps down when her foot slipped. She grabbed at the wall to steady herself, and stared down at the darkness before her. It reminded her of the clawing vision she was trying so desperately to escape.

_ The darkness of the Deep Roads hummed with a distant noise. She couldn't see the source but she could feel the tug of the beautiful music. The darkness did nothing to ease her footing and it was hard not to slip on the grime that covered every surface like a wasting mould. She resisted the urge to steady herself on the cavern walls, not wanting to get her hands dirty. Had she been here before? It was hard to tell; she had no stone sense like the dwarves. The humming filled her head and chest and in that instant she recognized the feeling-the compulsion. The Archdemon was calling. Its song danced in her blood, bidding her to seek it out, but her body wanted to reject it; cast out the taint from within her. It made her feel torn, internally separated into Grey Warden and a Darkspawn thrall._

_ But how was this possible? It was dead. She had felled it by her own hand. Were there more nearby? She didn't want to think about it, so she pressed forward into the darkness. "I have to get out of here," she thought._

_ Something caught her foot and she tumbled forward. Instinctively, she reached for her staff but there was nothing at her side, so she fell. The thud as she hit the greasy floor was deafening, and echoed throughout the tunnel for what felt like an eternity. She lay there, holding her breath and listening. _

_ The humming ceased and was replaced by another song. Softer at first, but as it grew louder, Kaetryn realised with dread what she was hearing. It was the agonized screams of an entire army. No, not an army. A nation. There were women and children screaming-babies wailing. She even heard the hounds howling in anguish. She closed her eyes and tried to muffle the sound with her hands, but the sound could not be stopped. It filled her entire body; pushing everything else aside until there was nothing in her but horror._

Kaetryn gasped and stamped the floor with her staff, sending an echo cascading down the stairway and the gem atop it flash with angry light. It had felt so real; there had been no question in her mind about the reality of it all. Now the dream snaked through her brain like a parasitic worm, infecting her thoughts. Kaetryn mustered her willpower and shoved it to the darkest recesses of her mind, and continued on down the stairs more carefully.

She hadn't expected to find any sort of servant in the kitchen this late at night but sure enough, the hearth burned with a welcoming fire. A mottled, longhaired cat, which was lying on the table, raised its head, ears perked as she entered the room. Kaetryn locked eyes with it, and she saw it possessed intelligence. She nodded to it and that seemed to bemuse it after a lifetime of being disregarded by all who entered its domain. A wizened but friendly looking woman introduced herself as Maralyn and placed a large wooden chair by the fire, insisting that Kaetryn sit in it.

"I'm fine, I really am miss. I just came to get a drin-" stammered Kaetryn, surprised by the unexpected and matronly attention.

"Of course, love. Can't sleep I s'pose?" she clucked with a thick Ferelden accent. "I'll get ye some warm milk," she cooed, rushing off to the pantry before Kaetryn could say anything else. She returned quickly with a bottle of milk and a saucepan.

Kaetryn examined the old woman as she fussed about the kitchen, searching for spices among the many cupboards. She looked like she was at least 60 years old, but slender hips suggested that she never bore children. Her grey hair was pulled into a bun and her soft brown eyes held a certain kindness within them. Neither her age nor the late hour seemed to slow her down, and her grace and smile reflected a youthful beauty that she must have once possessed. "If I may be so bold, ma'am, where are you from?" Kaetryn asked from her chair near the fire, happy to have met someone from her native lands.

"Of course, love! I'm from Redcliffe. Came here about 10 years ago with my husband. Rather than work in the town as an underpaid foreigner, I decided to serve the Wardens as my husband did, in my own small way" she chuckled as she poured some milk mixed with cinnamon into a pan, and placed it on the rack above the flames. "Shall I fix ye summin t'eat?"

"No, thank you. I really just... needed some time." said Kaetryn, mindful of how tired her voice must sound.

"Aye, m'lady. I see," replied Maralyn with a knowing nod. After a few minutes of smoothing the cat's fur, she lifted the simmering milk from the fire. Slowly, she poured the sweet smelling drink into a large, wooden cup and handed it to Kaetryn. "And what of you? I'm willing to bet you're not from around these parts!"

"Heh. No, I'm not," admitted Kaetryn. She remembered little of her early life, before her affinity towards magic had manifested. She had been the daughter of a merchant, a family with modest affluence. She had two brothers and many memories of running wild in the forest with them, slaying pretend monsters and demons. It felt like two lifetimes had passed since those days. "I'm from a small village just north of Gwaren, ma'am, but I grew up in the Brecilian forest," she said, after a moment's reflection, sadness filling her eyes.

This answer seemed to surprise Maralyn, but after a moment she nodded. Living amongst the Wardens must come with all sorts of strange origin stories. "Let me know if there is anything else I can do for you, love," she winked. Her eyes flashed quickly to the corner as if to check on something, and then she turned and walked back to the root vegetables she had been chopping earlier.

Kaetryn followed her gaze to the shadows on the far side of the kitchen. She hadn't noticed the man sitting there before, hunched over a mug of ale. He was staring off into the distance, his stark blue eyes wide and glazed over. His skin was pale-almost sickly and his face gaunt. He looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. Kaetryn examined him more closely. He had a thin beard and his long and slightly matted black hair was tied back with a simple strip of leather. He was very muscular, with broad shoulders and a prominent chest. He wore a simple white linen nightshirt, and brown linen pants. He thumbed the handle on the mug, not much interested in anything but his deep thoughts. Kaetryn averted her gaze to avoid distracting him from them. She envied whatever deep place he had retreated to in his mind. She longed for such solace.

She felt a nudge on her staff and she looked down as she sipped the hot milk. The cat had plodded over and was rubbing up against the base of her staff. Kaetryn chuckled. She leaned her staff up in a corner by the fire, picked the cat up and placed it on her lap. "You're lucky, you know. A lesser mage than I would singe your tail for such an offense" she whispered, scratching the cat behind his ears. He purred and nuzzled his face into her hand. She closed her eyes and reached out to the cat's mind with magic. She saw the cat's graceful movements, knew the sound that it's paws made when it walked on the floor. She saw it running quickly and leaping to tall places and felt every muscle movement required for such jumping. She smiled. Morrigan had clued her in on a few tricks when it came to shapeshifting before she disappeared, but she had not wanted to reveal enough to allow Kaetryn to master the talent. She practiced whenever she could, trying to flesh out the missing information that Morrigan had so cleverly omitted. Kaetryn reached out to the cat again, but this time saw only desire and intense concentration on her cup of milk.

"Oh I see how it is," she murmured close to the cat's face. She plopped him back onto the floor and placed the cup next to him. She giggled when he comically squeezed his entire face into the cup right up to his ears to lap up the unexpected gift.

"You're going to spoil that damnable thing," scolded Maralyn without even turning around to look at him.

"He's just finishing the little bit left in the bottom, ma'am" lied Kaetryn as she gave the cat a wink.

"Mmhmm" sighed Maralyn. "His name is Purrlock, by the way."

"Ha! That's a rather sick joke, isn't it?" scoffed Kaetryn.

"Aye, m'lady," laughed Maralyn. I thought so too. But the lads gave him the name it just sort of stuck."

Kaetryn chuckled once more, returning her attention to the fire and stared at it for a time. It's soft glow cast warmth to farthest corner of the room, but did little to brighten her mood. Instead the dancing flames mesmerized her, dulling her senses. It wasn't long before Kaetryn was forced back into a hellish trance.

_Everything grew bright then; the walls of the cave melted away. She found herself laying in a farmer's field set ablaze. She tried to get up and run but she slipped and fell into a sticky puddle of blood. As the hot liquid soaked into her robes, her eyes trailed outwards, following the source of the ichor. What she saw stopped her heart cold in her chest. A pile of bodies, twisted and writhing was before her. They clawed at each other, unable to escape their torture, pinned by arrows, spears, and the weight of their fellow man as their lifeblood was drained from every hole cut into their body._

_ Kaetryn shut her eyes and flung her body forward into a full sprint, but before she got even a few meters she froze. She sensed them: Darkspawn inching forward. She felt them licking their lips and gnashing their teeth in delight. They had her completely encircled, and they knew it. She looked around frantically for a way out. From the acrid smoke of the burning fields they emerged: Hurlocks slowly lumbering forward with swords raised high, ready to cut her down. Fear over came her and she cowered down on her knees, throwing her arms over her head trying desperately to hide from her impending death. They were mere inches from her now; she could feel their icy, unnatural breath all over her, their stench soaking into her skin and suffocating her from within. Defeated, she let out a final horrified scream. _

Kaetryn shuddered, trying to force herself back into the present. She longed to walk the hallways then, to find comfort in the exploration of Weisshaupt. Perhaps it would offer more of a distraction than her silent company. She sighed, and was about to reach for her staff and bid Maralyn and her little companion a good night when the man in the corner spoke. His voice was deep, but smooth and warm.

"You're the Ferelden, aren't you? The one that arrived yesterday, from Amaranthine?" he asked, staring at her quizzically. Life had returned to his eyes.

It took her a moment to realise that he was talking to her. That was not a name she had ever been called before. Kaetryn turned back towards the flames and rolled her eyes. "First I was _the_ _Apostate_. Then I was_ the_ _Warden_. Now I am to be _the Ferelden_?" she scoffed.

She turned back to the man; his face hadn't changed expression. He didn't look hostile, or even frightened by her obvious magical abilities. He seemed genuinely curious and slightly amused at her defensive response. She looked down, ashamed of her harsh reaction. "Call me Kaetryn, for that's who I am above everything else" she sighed, flashing an apologetic look.

"And my name is Colin. It's an honour to meet someone so famous. It's not every day that you get to meet the woman responsible for ending a Blight." he said, nodding his head with a faint tone of reverence in his voice.

Kaetryn was mildly taken aback. Those who recognized her since she arrived at Weisshaupt had greeted her with one of only two emotions: suspicion and jealousy. The jealousy was a fool's notion. Who would want to be responsible for uniting a warring nation against its will, and march its entire army to fight an evil so mighty and ancient that it haunted all who saw it even now, 3 years after its death? It had been a task no one else had been willing or capable of doing and it had left her a hollow shell of what she once was; a youthful and free hedge mage, hunting and practicing her spells in the Brecilian forest under the caring and watchful eye of an apostate running from the Circle.

The suspicion however, made sense. Destroying an Archdemon was supposed to also destroy the Warden who delivers the final blow. Kaetryn and Alistair had claimed that Riordan had been the one to fell the beast, but his body was reportedly found far from Fort Drakon, where the final showdown had taken place. All who survived the siege of Denerim had seen and felt the great cataclysm of energy that had been unleashed upon the death of the Archdemon, but no one seemed capable of believing that Riordan had been hurled that far. Neither Kaetryn nor Alistair were willing to explain the deal they had struck with Morrigan that night so long ago, nor were they willing to contemplate the consequences of such a choice. Hunting Morrigan down had only left Kaetryn with more questions than answers.

"Well met, Ser Colin. Might I know your rank? Are you stationed here at Weisshaupt?" she asked, trying to sound official.

"My lady, please. I beg you. No need to be so formal. I'm sitting here in my bedclothes over a pint in the wee hours of the morning. If there is any place that should be free of pomp and ceremony, it is here." he breathed, a warm smile and a twinkle of laughter in his eyes.

Kaetryn laughed. "Fair enough. In that case I feel a tad over-dressed. They don't supply mages with attire appropriate for sneaking around in the middle of the night, I'm afraid."

"Ha! Tell me, as I've always wondered. Does a mage lose his connection to the Fade if he is not adorned in jewels, gold, and silk at all times?" he chortled before taking a large swig of his pint.

"You know, I'm starting to wonder that myself. But I still remember a time when I wore nothing but stitched together bits of cloth and leather that I nicked off of travelers," retorted Kaetryn. Colin snorted as he fought to swallow his ale, lest it spew forth all over the table. "I'm sure they do it out of kindness. We wouldn't want to blend in with the rabble too much. Might make it difficult for the Templars to find us in case we decide to start summoning demons and eating children."

Colin snickered. "I suspect you may be right." He gestured towards the chair on the other side of the table in front of him. "Please. I'd be honoured if you'd join me."

Kaetryn plucked her staff from its spot by the fire and moved to sit across from Colin at the table. He stood as she approached, and waited until she was seated again, which she had come to learn meant he had formal training in polite decorum. He was not some simple cutpurse recruited for his skills with a dagger and ability to out-run the guard. She placed her staff neatly across the table and out of the way. "So why are you in the kitchen in your bed clothes drinking a pint, if I may ask?"

"You may," he said, taking another large gulp. "I expect it's the same reason you're here. I was just having a hard time getting to sleep is all, what with such a busy day ahead of me. I don't have such lovely robes to adorn myself with on my nightly raids of the larder, so I didn't bother getting dressed," he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

Kaetryn smiled at him, and he smiled back. His smile was warm but his eyes were troubled; plagued by dark visions of monsters and tainted gods. She looked down at her hands. Grey Wardens don't discuss the dreams. They serve an important function; a constant reminder as to why the Wardens must keep their vigil until the last Archdemon is slain or the last Warden falls; whichever comes first.

Colin examined her more closely than he had when she first walked in. She was quite beautiful-had that allure that _most_ mages held, without the air of superiority that _all_ mages possessed. She had soft features that had been hardened through years of bloodshed and sacrifice. Her emerald eyes were intelligent and calculating, but were also filled with longing. After a long silence, Colin raised his mug to his lips and swallowed the last bit of froth that remained at the bottom, slamming it back down on the table with a thud. It snapped Kaetryn to attention who looked at him with surprise.

"I have an idea. I know what will get us both back to our beds," he declared, standing and striding over to where Maralyn dutifully chopped vegetables. He placed the mug atop a growing pile of dirty dishes and turned so that he faced both Maralyn and Kaetryn.

"My dearest, sweet Maralyn-most beautiful and youthful. I have a small boon I must ask of you," he announced, his voice rife with mischief.

"Is that so?" muttered Maralyn. "Is there ever a time when you're _not_ asking favours from me, boy?"

Colin placed a hand on his cheek as if he had just been slapped, but he ignored the comment and continued. "Oh please won't you aid me in granting a formal welcome to the Hero of Ferelden?" he cooed, a wolfish grin beset his face.

"What? The Hero of Ferelden?" she asked as she put the knife down and turned towards Kaetryn in disbelief, who in turn was staring at Colin with a look of betrayal and shame. She never felt comfortable being referred to as such, but it was a title that King Alistair had given her as a gift. He knew it would garner her respect and give the minstrels cause to write songs. He never knew the embarrassment that it filled her with. Of course he didn't. He was never fully aware of her feelings towards anything.

"Oh yes, my lovely Maralyn. This is she: the warrior mage who united your homeland and quelled the Blight just 3 years ago." he regaled with grandiose arm gestures.

Maralyn, after a moment of shock took a step forward, but Kaetryn jumped up and took her hand before she had time to say or do anything. Years of being revered had taught Kaetryn all the best ways of avoiding it. "Maralyn please. I simply did what had to be done. It was plain as day what Ferelden needed; everyone could see it. Anyone would have done the same had they been in any sort position to do it. I am no more noble a Warden than any man or woman here. They all would have done exactly the same," she pleaded, smiling with a friendly and reassuring tone.

Maralyn stared at her in awe. But finally she nodded. "Aye, my lady. I just... you are also the Champion of Redcliffe, are you not? I heard tales of what you and the King did for the Arl and his wife. You saved many lives, and some of those belonged to my family. I must thank you," she croaked. Her eyes began to well up and she turned back to her vegetables and began chopping with renewed vigor.

Colin looked at Kaetryn with muted surprise. But he caught himself and returned to his facade. "And lo! Such modesty! Won't you help me bid her a proper welcome to our humble fortress, dear Maralyn?" he said leaning in closer to Kaetryn, giving her an impish wink. She stared back at him with indignation.

"Oh _sod_ off, Colin. I'll not be part of your childish games tonight!" snorted Maralyn, wiping away a tear with her sleeve.

"No games, fair lady! I only wish to share a drink with our honoured guest!" he smiled as his devilish plan almost complete. Maralyn stopped chopping and glared at him with a look of suspicion and animosity on her face. "What kind of drink?" she asked, eyes narrowing.

"Oh I dunno! How about some of that lovely green stuff I had the other-"

"No! Absolutely not! Last time you came in here drinking that foul swill I was scrubbing your guts off the floor for an hour!" she hollered, slamming the knife down on the cutting board close enough to Colin's fingers to make him jump back in mock surprise and pain. The cat jumped from his perch on the table at the sudden disturbance and scurried under the table.

Colin opened his mouth to protest but sank down in a chair in defeat instead. "You are right, my love. She probably couldn't handle the stuff. I mean she did slay an Archdemon by herself with two arms and a leg tied behind her back, but this would certainly overwhelm her delicate feminine palette" he admitted, eyes dropping to the floor in ersatz disappointment.

"If you think you can just come in here and charm me with that _golden_ personality, young man, you've got another thing coming!" barked Maralyn wielding her knife like the righteous flaming sword of Andraste. "I've got enough to worry about around here without stopping to wonder who is havin' a laugh at my expense every flaming day. Maker be praised, I've better things to do!"

Kaetryn caught on to his game. He was challenging her to a drinking contest. She smiled; this was not a challenge she would shy away from. "My, such a round-a-bout way of asking a lady to have a drink with you, Ser Colin! I dare say I must accept your invitation but I _insist_ that only the finest spirits be presented to me!" she smiled, locking eyes with Colin and assuming a challenging pose. It only served to embolden him.

Maralyn once again put down her knife and sighed. "Oh you're going to be just as bad as he is, I see. Well sit down then. I'll fetch that sore excuse of a drink. I won't try and stop you. You're going to have to learn the hard way, just as he did!" she snapped before stomping off in a huff.

Kaetryn waited until Maralyn was out of earshot before turning back to Colin. "That was quite a fine act, Colin. Have you considered taking up the bardic arts?" she joked.

"You might want to save that sharp wit of yours. Your tongue is going to need all the resolve it can muster!" he shot back, returning to his seat at the table. Kaetryn followed and moments later, Maralyn returned with two small stone cups and a black bottle made of a thick, opaque material. A wooden cork was wedged into the neck of the bottle.

"Right! Any mess the pair of you make I'm leaving here til' morning so you can clean it up yourselves!" she snapped, and took her place in the chair by the fire, snatching up Purrlock to viciously pet him, much to his displeasure.

Colin flashed Kaetryn an evil grin and uncorked the bottle. He filled Kaetryn's glass to the brim and leaned back in his seat. His look dared her to drink it.

"What? You're not having one?" Kaetryn asked, bewildered.

"Oh I promise you, my lady. I will match you drink for drink. But I want to see your face after your first... taste-test" he chuckled.

Kaetryn looked down at her cup with mild trepidation. The dark green liquid was translucent by the firelight, but slightly murky. It smelled faintly of mud and rot. Mustering her courage, she straightened her back, "I'll warn you; I've tasted all sorts of Dwarven ales when I visited Orzammar. I will not easily be put off." She smiled sweetly, feigning demur innocence.

"Well this, my esteemed guest is, from what I understand, Qunari in origin and imported from Rivain. It is served only at times when the Qunari are allowed to forsake their meditations and take up celebrations in the streets. It is a rare treasure that you are about to drink here with me tonight." he grinned, his excitement at the coming spectacle mounting.

"Ah! Then let us have a toast!" Kaetryn proclaimed, raising the stinking liquid high. "May we always have more cause for celebration than the Qunari!" and with that she brought the cup to her lips, threw her head back and swallowed the liquid all in one go.

"Here here!" cried Colin.

The sound that followed can best be described as part snarl of determination, part whimper of remorse. Every muscle in her face quivered and fought against the putrid taste in her mouth. It was almost a minute before she was able to speak without fear of retaliation from her stomach.

"Ugh! It tastes just like-"

"Haha! Yes! They scrape it right off the rocks by the seaside! Truly the drink of champions, wouldn't you agree?" he burst out laughing, slamming his fist on the table. Kaetryn saw how handsome he was then. Maralyn snorted in the corner, but pretended like she wasn't paying attention, preferring instead to continue her assault on the cat's fur. Purrlock looked miserable.

"I believe you made me a promise, Ser Colin," she croaked through the urge to vomit. She already felt a bit light-headed from the drink. It was certainly strong stuff. "No wonder why Sten never smiled", she thought to herself.

"Aye I did," he nodded. He grimaced; eyes filled with tenacity. He filled his glass and drank it back, clenching his free hand tightly on the edge of the table. He shuddered and squirmed, but kept his composure. Clearly he had had lots of practice.

"You truly are a masochist, my friend," admired Kaetryn, as she leaned her head on her hands.

"Comes with the job, don't you think?" he grunted through the bitter aftertaste, before letting out a gurgling belch. The ugly truth behind his comment hung in the air. He regretted saying it almost immediately.

Kaetryn nodded, folding her hands in her lap and fixing her gaze upon her shoes. After a long silence, she yawned. "One more, for those who have gone before us. Then I really must be going to bed, and you should too," she laughed. She picked up the heavy bottle and took pleasure in filling Colin's cup, knowing the horror his tongue was about to endure. With a withering sigh, she filled hers equally full and pushed the cork back into the neck of the bottle.

"Is that an official order?" he asked sarcastically. "Fear not, Warden-Commander, it's not the same the second time 'round."

"Yes, it is," she chirped. "And good!" They raised their glasses, clinked them together whole-heartedly, and then at the same time pounded back their drinks as quickly as they could. This time Kaetryn had to physically hold her mouth shut to prevent the entire contents of her stomach from expelling themselves outwards.

"I probably should have mentioned that it is _worse_ the second time around," coughed Colin playfully through multiple intestinal spasms.

Swallowing hard and gathering her composure, Kaetryn calmly replied, "I shall remember your trickery, Ser Colin. It will not be forgotten." Pointing at her dress, she continued "I hope you have enough coin to replace this kind of finery should the next drink we share be so... exotic." She stood from her seat, steadying herself on the table. Colin stood up as well, albeit too quickly. He stumbled back slightly but caught himself just in time. Maralyn eyed them with scrutiny, ready to start hollering should either one of them be sick.

"Aye, I shall come prepared next time," he promised solemnly. "Shall I escort you to your sleeping quarters, Warden-Commander?" asked Colin, bowing low, studying in her curves as he did.

"No good ser, I shall take my leave," she smiled, oblivious to his gaze. She picked up her staff, and used it to steady her slightly intoxicated footing. "Hopefully I will run into you again soon" she giggled, slightly woozy.

"I look forward to it, my lady," he said and as she turned to leave he grabbed her hand and bent down to kiss it. She pulled him in close instead, much to Colin's surprise. She was a few inches shorter than he was, but her vice-like gaze made him feel small. He searched her face for anger or offence, but he found only amusement. She laughed at his dumbfounded expression.

"Men with long hair are not my type" she chuckled. "Good night, Ser Colin, and I do hope to see you again." She squeezed his hand, holding his gaze for a moment longer, then abruptly turned and left.

In the corner Maralyn chuckled. "I believe you were just beaten at your own game, young man. You best be wary of that one!"

Colin's eyes lingered on the door for a moment longer and then he turned to Maralyn. "Why, whatever do you mean, dearest Maralyn? I only have eyes for you!" He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and planted a loud, wet kiss on her cheek.

"Ach! Sod off you blighted fool. That foulness makes your breath stink!" she snapped, slapping him off of her.

Colin stumbled back clutching at his chest. "Be still my aching heart! Oh Maker, why did you create women to be so cruel?" he whined before slipping out into the hallway and towards his bed. The booze made his head swim and he hoped it would silence the demons that waited to torment him as soon as he closed his eyes.

He stopped and searched the hallway ahead, but there was no indication of which direction the mage had gone. Sighing in disappointment, he continued back to his chambers. He would have to ask around, see if anyone knew where her room was in the morning. The men would no doubt be gossiping about the mage woman who mysteriously showed up the day before.

But first he'd need to find someone who could cut his hair.


	3. Chapter 2

Dawn broke over the Anderfels, and the dim, purple light that shone through the window was enough to rouse Kaetryn from a comatose-like slumber. She groaned as she opened her eyes, quickly snapping them shut again and burying her face into the bedsheets. Her mouth felt dry and cracked, and it tasted like it had spent the night stuffed with dirt. She tried to force herself back to sleep, hoping that when she next woke, her headache would be gone. After a few painful minutes, she gave up. With another groan she rolled over and sat up, discovering that she was still in the robes she wore the night before, but they were wrinkled and in disarray. She sat there for a moment more, trying to remember what it was she was supposed to be doing. Finally with a gruntHorde, she whipped the black velvet curtains closed and was plunged into total darkness.

Getting rid of the morning light did little to ease the throbbing in her head. In fact, it seemed only to leave her blind and unable to locate the washbasin that had been drawn for her the previous day. Ignoring the pain and dehydration, she allowed a small stream of mana to trickle into her staff, and the amber gem began to glow with a faint greenish-gold light. It was just enough to see the outline of the furniture in the room, but not enough to agitate her headache. To her right was a vanity, and a ceramic bowl sat on a small table beside it. She lunged for it, splashing water on her face and drinking all that found its way into her mouth. Instantly she felt better, her headache slowly abating.

She focused more mana into the staff and it shone with more intensity-enough to examine her appearance. Her hair was still braided and therefore was not hopelessly knotted. The silk robes were twisted and wrinkled so she swapped them for a white gown with a bright blue ivy motif. The silver sash she wore the night before had come undone and Kaetryn found it bunched up under her bed. She tied it tightly around her waist and fastened a hooded cloak made of grey silk over her shoulders. Further examination of her appearance made her decide to unweave her hair, leaving it loose, wavy, and voluminous around her face.

Satisfied with her appearance, she bent to sip more water when a loud banging noise made her jump. At first she thought someone was knocking on her door, but more banging and a faint sobbing noise made her realise that it was coming from some distance away. Silently she opened her door and slipped into the hallway, closing it again as softly as she could. The irate man didn't seem to notice as he continued pummeling the door at the end of the hall. The blonde Orlesian maiden from the night before was tugging at his arm and whispering harshly in a strange language. Kaetryn could see a steady stream of pitiful tears running down her face.

"He must be some kind of noble," Kaetryn thought to herself from the shadows of the dimly lit hall, "He's got his weight in gold woven into his bedclothes." His face was flushed bright red and he pounded on the door twice more before turning to the girl who was trying to calm him.

"Quel histoire de merde! Après tous ce que je vous avez faite, vous me répondez avec des histoires de bétises qui concernent la famille! Je suis content qu'au moins ta mère n'est pu parmi nous autres pour voir que sa fille unique est devenue rien d'autre qu'une pute salle!" he barked, grabbing her arm and pulling her close to his face.

"Mais Papa, ce n'est pas ca l'histoire pas en toute! Je te le jure, Papa!" she bawled. Suddenly, the man lashed out, slapping her across the face and silencing her immediately.

"Hey! What is the meaning of this‽" flared Kaetryn, stepping forward into the light. She filled her body with magic, ready to smite the man if he continued to attack the girl.

They both jumped and turned to face her. The girl shrunk back and cowered behind her father, but the man glared at Kaetryn, unaware of the great power she commanded. "I demand to know the name of the scoundrel who dwells here!" he bellowed imperiously with a staunch Orlesian accent, "I demand he come out and face me!"

"The name of the scoundrel is Kaetryn, and you're looking right at her," she snapped back. The magic trilled throughout her body, making the air around her shimmer ever so slightly.

His eyes widened and his jaw dropped, gaping with dumbfounded shock. He glanced quickly from Kaetryn to his daughter and back again. "Aline! What is this meaning of this? I thought you were..." he broke off and continued to stare, confused.

"I was... I was just trying-" she spluttered.

"She was asking me questions about the Grey Wardens, you Grace," Kaetryn interjected. "She is a very bright and curious young woman, with a keen interest in our history. We spoke for many hours last night." She smiled sweetly, and quelled the magic that seethed within her.

The look of surprise on Aline's face mirrored her father's. After a moment's pause, he turned to his daughter and said "Aline? Is this true? Is that where you were all night?"

"Ah... yes father," she lied, letting her eyes sink to the floor. "I... I must have lost track of the hour, and before I knew it the sun was coming up!" she laughed nervously.

He scrutinized her face for a time, searching for evidence to the contrary. After about a minute he turned to Kaetryn and crossed his arms over his chest as he made a slight bow. "My apologies, Grey Warden. I hope I have not offended the Order with my rash outburst." He turned back to Aline and stared at her with frustration and disapproval. "I think my daughter and I will take our leave of Weisshaupt today, and return to Val Royeaux. If you will excuse us, we will not intrude on your patience any longer." With that he turned on his heels and marched quickly towards the stairs. Aline shot Kaetryn a look of intense gratitude before she scurried after her father. Kaetryn watched them leave warily.

As soon as they were both out of sight, the door that had just been assaulted opened slowly, and a smug Elf leaned against the door frame, smiling. "That was really quite smooth, Warden-Commander. I'm quite impressed," he chuckled as he stretched, running his hand over his bare middle. He was tall for an Elf, with short yet shaggy dark blonde hair, ashen eyes and faintly tanned skin. His smile was sarcastic and smug. As most elves, he was graceful and lithe, but was also very muscular. He noticed Kaetryn examining him and stood at attention before giving her an overly formal bow. "I am Tab, Warden-Commander. Rogue, gentleman, and a slayer of Darkspawn and the hearts women," he announced, struggling to keep a straight face.

"Oh, I have no doubt about that," she scoffed, rolling her eyes so hard that they almost fell out of her head. But she had to laugh; his arrogance and brazen glibness reminded her faintly of Zevran, and that made her smile in spite of herself. "You don't have to keep calling me that, by the way. My name is Kaetryn. I am a Warden just as you, or anyone else here," she smiled warmly, extending her hand as a friendly gesture.

Tab's eye's lit up with impish delight. He clasped her forearm whole-heartedly and held it for a moment, giving him time to glance over the arch in her back and the way her gown accentuated her breasts. Kaetryn pretended not to notice. "Yep. Just like Zev," she thought.

Just then the door next to Tab's opened and a swarthy man with a long beard, which had many silver beads woven into it, poked his head out and glared at both of them. Seeing the Elf, he shook his fist. "Blimey Tab! Should've known it was your fault I got so rudely awoken. What, in the name of Andraste, was that all that blasted_ noise_?" he grumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He noticed Kaetryn then, and gave her a quick nod-a gesture she returned.

"That, my dear Cade, was the sound of the fearless and _beautiful_ Kaetryn coming to my daring rescue!" he retorted. He nudged Kaetryn with his elbow and chirped amusedly "There must be something in the air over Ferelden that makes Orlesians turn tail and run. Perhaps it's the smell of dogs?"

"Oh you're a right ass, you know that? Just keep your early morning transgressions nice and quiet next time, alright?" Cade barked before slamming his door shut. The sound served as a painful reminder that Kaetryn was still recovering from the repugnant Qunari liqour.

"Ugh," moaned Kaetryn, cupping her face with her hands.

"Ah, so I see you had no trouble finding the kitchen last night," Tab chuckled warmly. "Perhaps I can repay you for saving me from that uncomfortable situation by offering you a massage? I know of no better cure for the aches and pains that go along with such... overindulgence," he cooed, gliding behind her and reaching for her shoulders in one smooth motion.

Kaetryn evaded to the left and turned to face him again. "Have you ever been to Antiva, Tab?" she asked with one eyebrow raised, but her face otherwise dispassionate.

"Antiva?" Tab replied quizzically. "No. Never. I was born in Tevinter but my family was... relocated to the Free Marches when I was very young. Why do you ask?"

"You remind me of an old friend. I figured you might be related," she teased. She glanced back towards the stairwell to make sure Aline and her father were still gone. "Who were those two anyway? Why are they here? I didn't think Weisshaupt housed anyone but Wardens," she asked.

"I think she mentioned something about her father being a merchant from Val Royeaux. I can't be sure; I wasn't exactly paying attention to her constant chatter," Tab snickered as he leaned on the wall behind him. "Probably here delivering a tithe on behalf of his family. Lots of wealthy nobility-seekers do it to parade their wealth in front of the competing houses. Boosts their reputation, I'd wager."

"Wouldn't donating to the Chantry serve that purpose without requiring them travel such great distances?" she asked, folding her arms over her chest to thwart Tab's lascivious gaze.

"Anybody can just throw coins at the Chantry," he shrugged. "Only the truly wealthy ones can afford to hire guardsmen and make the journey to the Anderfels to deliver their tithe in person."

Kaetryn nodded thoughtfully. "The Orlesians are an odd bunch indeed. But while we're on the subject of reputation, I'm going to demand that you repay your debt to me by respecting the reputation of the Grey Wardens. The last thing we need to do is create ire in the hearts of wealthy and influential men."

"Bah. He was hardly noteworthy. Truly neither the wealthiest nor most influential man to grace these halls," Tab responded dismissively, waving his hand and turning to walk back into his room.

Kaetryn grabbed his arm to stop him. "While I'm sure we could do without his tithe, we might one day need to set up camp on his land, or barter for his goods, or ask him to give up his son for the Joining, or any other multitude of things that would require us to be in his good graces. So it's important that he not get it into this head that all Grey Wardens are only interested in defiling his daughters. Next thing you know he's telling all who will listen that we're all just a bunch of lechers!" she insisted, her patience wearing thin.

"So what? No man is above offering what he can spare to the Grey Wardens. Let the bored nobles have their hearsay. They are all still bound to respect the Old Treaties," Tab refuted in defiance.

"I have witnessed what can happen when powerful people lose respect for us and our cause. It can create a lot of unnecessary suffering and lead to so much death and destruction," Kaetryn admonished, anger rising in her voice.

Death and destruction like the now infamous Battle of Ostagar. The King's most trusted general and advisor, Teryn Loghain Mac Tir, betrayed him and the Grey Wardens, abandoning them to be overrun by Darkspawn. Kaetryn didn't think anyone would ever fully understand the motives behind Loghain's treachery, but she also knew that no one could have predicted the catastrophic consequences of his deceit-least of all Loghain himself.

After their narrow escape from atop the Tower of Ishal at the hands of Flemeth, Kaetryn and Alistair swore they would bring Loghain to justice and make him pay for his baleful mistake. Against the odds, they succeeded, but Kaetryn would never forget the look of shame and regret on Loghain's face the moment before his execution for high treason. But his remorse would never erase the horror she witnessed at Ostagar that ill-fated night.

_Kaetryn ran as fast as her legs would carry her across the bridge that overlooked the chasm below, where a few hundred men clashed sword and shield against countless waves of the Darkspawn Horde. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, matching the tempo of her feet hitting the ground. The clamour of battle cries and screams of pain, from men and Darkspawn alike, was deafening. Giant projectiles of stone and fire sailed overheard, shaking the earth when then crashed down upon the King's army._

_"Look out!" hollered Alistair as he tackled her from behind, forcefully shoving her into the ground. The weight of his splintmail stabbed painfully into her back as it drove the air out of her lungs. Seconds later, a boulder bathed in flames split the bridge open not 5 meters in front of her with a thundering explosion. Two archers that had been raining arrows down into the ravine were gone, replaced but a gaping hole. She stared in confusion; it was unlike anything she had ever seen._

_"We have to get to the Tower of Ishal!" Alistair roared into her ear over the chaos around them, and suddenly she was up and running again. The driving rain clawed at her face, but still she pressed forward, her whole body locked in a frantic sprint. _

_Another flaming boulder rocked the bridge as more of its support beams were knocked out from under it. The sudden convulsion under her feet caused her to slip on the wet ground as a bolt of lightning hacked the sky asunder, filling the night with an ethereal brilliance that left her momentarily blind._

_Alistair turned and wrenched her by the arm back onto her feet. "Come on! Duncan's counting on us!" he urged._

"Oh you mean like the Battle of Ostagar?" Tab shot back as Kaetryn gazed at him with empty and distant eyes. "Ostagar was an oversight. What was his name? Oh yes: Duncan. He should have..."

The sound of Duncan's name made her heart ache, and it brought her back to the dark hallway deep within Weisshaupt. She noticed Tab still standing in front of her, prattling away with his lips upturned in a smile of haughty defiance. With shock and outrage, she realised that Tab was listing the errors in judgment that had been made by Cailan and Duncan before the battle.

"You know not of what you speak, boy," she spat, her rage boiling over. She felt the tide of arcane energy flow into her limbs, but she ignored it. "I will not stand here and listen to the mewling of an ignorant whelp. Duncan did all that he could with such short notice and limited resources, and no one, not even a general as _experienced_ and _cunning_ as you, would have done differently!" She stopped suddenly, wrestling with the bolt of electricity that wriggled impatiently in her arms. Finally she leaned in close to Tab's nonplussed face, her eyes gleaming with power. "Not another word on this matter. Have I made myself abundantly clear?"

Tab stared at her with indignation and mild fear. He pursed his lips and glared at her. "Yes, Warden-Commander," he seethed.

Kaetryn saw her 19-year-old self, standing in the Brecilian forest as Duncan informed Casturn that he was invoking the Rite of Conscription on Kaetryn's life, reflected in Tab's face. She begged and pleaded Casturn to run, to take her away from the man who aimed to tear her away from her peaceful life. But Casturn was a honourable man. He had believed Duncan when he said that Ferelden stood on the precipice of the next Blight. He was aware that Kaetryn was a talented mage with a strong connection to the Fade, and that the Grey Warden's would need all the allies they could gather for the coming battles. And although he had forsworn the Circle of Magi for almost two decades, he decided to honour the Treaty that the Circle had signed so many ages ago. Kaetryn watched with a broken heart as Casturn embraced her one last time, thrust his prized staff into her hands, and turned away from her. He paused for the quickest moment, and then was gone, disappearing into the endless forest forever. Kaetryn never saw him again.

She had never hated anybody or anything more than she hated Duncan at that moment. She undertook the Joining ritual that night, and in the short month that followed leading up to the Battle of Ostagar, Duncan had given her all the tools she had needed to become the Hero of Ferelden.

Kaetryn sighed, letting the anger drain from her voice and the power struggling to loose itself from her body ebbed back into the Fade. She pushed the memory of Ostagar from her mind and instead, she remember how calmly but firmly Duncan had quelled her rage, and the ease at which he guided her to make the right decisions, even long after he had passed away.

Duncan would have been ashamed by the way she reacted to Tab; he would not have lost his temper at the folly of a young recruit. Furthermore, Tab was not her charge; none of the men at Weisshaupt were, and she had been wrong to antagonize him. She looked him in the eyes then, searching for any sign that he could be calmed, but all she saw was contempt. Frowning, she nodded.

"I'll see you around, Tab," she murmured as she slowly walked away. The feeling of his resentful stare on the back of her head made her cringe.

As she passed under the arch leading to the stairs, her thoughts turned to her staff, which she had left wedged between the nightstand and the wall in her room. She didn't feel comfortable leaving it behind, but she was unwilling to pass by Tab's bitter gaze again. With a sigh, she hiked her gown up past her ankles and glided quickly down the stairs and out into the north wing of Weisshaupt.

"You're a lying cheat!" Erik hollered, slamming his cards down on the table. "There's no way you could have drawn that card the past seven games! Give me back my money, you swindling rat!"

Rorak smiled and waved his hand. "Aw don't get all sour just because lady luck favours me over your ugly mug!" The remark caused Yuric and Dass to burst out into laughter, and Dass slapped Erik on the back.

Erik leaped out of his chair and grabbed Rorak by the collar of his shirt, pulling him close to his face over the table. "Give me back my coin or we'll see if lady luck favours you over my axe!" he snarled as his chair toppled over backwards.

"Oi! I'll have none of that in here. Get out of my kitchen if you're going to behave like a bunch of hooligans," barked Maralyn, getting up from her chair by the fire. Purrlock leaped from her lap and scurried out the door, fleeing the impending scuffle lest his tail get stepped on.

"Bah! Please. You're just as much of an amateur with that axe as you are with a deck of cards!" chided Rorak as he grabbed Erik's wrist and dislodged his hand in one quick sweep.

Erik's face turned a frightening shade of reddish-purple as he shoved the table off to the side, knocking cards and ale everywhere as he closed the gap between him and Rorak. Yuric jumped in between them and tried to push Erik back, but was quickly dispatched by a sharp right hook to the face. Rorak used the short delay to his advantage and threw himself into Erik, delivering a hard jab to the gut. They both tumbled back against the wall as Dass picked Yuric and his bleeding nose up off the floor.

Maralyn grabbed her broom and swung at Rorak, narrowly missing his head. She stabbed at him again but Erik pulled it from her hands, throwing it against the door. "I said get out of my kitchen you fools!" she screeched, stomping her foot in frustration.

Erik drove his knee into Rorak's stomach, and delivered a blunt knock to his jaw. The force of the blow knocked Rorak backwards a few feet. Erik launched himself off the wall and lunged for Rorak who braced himself for impact. Suddenly Rorak was knocked down sideways as Erik was grabbed by the back of his shirt and hurled back against the wall. The sudden interference gave them both pause and they searched the room for the intruder.

After a tense moment, Rorak wiped the blood from his mouth with his sleeve and laughed. He slowly picked himself up off the floor and groaned, clutching at his rib cage. Erik panted heavily, glaring at Rorak with odium.

"That's enough," uttered Colin with quiet clout. "I'll not allow you to disgrace yourselves and the Wardens in front of the lady. If you've got some score to settle, do it on the training field so it at least hides the fact that you're just a couple of childish thugs lacking errands enough to fill their useless time."

Yuric grabbed Rorak by the shoulders and pushed him towards the door quickly, avoiding eye contact with Colin completely. Rorak turned and winked at Erik, blowing him a kiss before disappearing into the hall. Erik snarled and took a step forward but Colin pushed him roughly back up against the wall, pinning him there with one hand and pointing dictatorially in his face with the other hand.

"I said that's enough! If I hear of you two brawling indoors again, I'll see you both flogged," flared Colin, glowering harshly.

Erik glared back at Colin, but finally he relented. He shrugged Colin off and straightened his shirt, sniffing back angry tears. After a moment, he nodded towards Maralyn muttering "My apologies, m'lady." Maralyn continued to glower at him in silence. Another pause, and he straightened his back, and walked rigidly out the door with Dass quickly following at his heels.

Colin watched them leave and then turned to Maralyn. "Are you alright?" he asked, genuine concern in his voice.

"Aye, love. I'm fine," she smiled, her voice a little shaken. She sighed and looked at the mess. "Blighted fools!" she cursed under her breath as she bent to pick up the mugs that had been knocked onto the floor. Colin grabbed the table and hauled back to its original position before picking up the overturned chairs. He went to the pantry and retrieved the mop before Maralyn waved him away. "Don't be foolish love, I've got it," she chuckled as she took the mop from Colin's hand. Colin smiled and relinquished it freely. As she began to wipe up the spilt ale, Colin collected the cards strewn about the room and tossed them in the fire, exhaling sharply when he picked three red queens. "Well I won't be playing cards with Rorak ever again," he grumbled to himself.

"Did you need something, love? Or were you just scouring the halls for a group of louts to disband?" asked Maralyn as she rung out the mop in the sink.

"Ha! No. As much as they appear to need one, I'm no nanny. I was actually coming here to see if the Warden-Commander from last night was here," he laughed as he rubbed the table top with a cloth.

"Oh? So you could show her that handsome haircut of yours?" Maralyn teased cheekily from inside the pantry.

Colin's hand shot up to his head instinctively as he blushed. Luckily Maralyn was still in the pantry and couldn't see his telltale bashfulness. "Ah... no. That was the result of an unfortunate run-in with a mage who was practicing his fire trickery. Bastard burned it so bad that I had to get the rest chopped off" he laughed smoothly. "What do you think? Rather dashing isn't it?"

"Oh you've always been quite dashing, dear," smirked Maralyn, emerging from the pantry. "And to answer your question, she passed by here very early this morning. She didn't say where she was going though, and she seemed quite upset about something," she answered, her brow knitted with worry. "Why are you looking for her?"

"I have a message for her. The Council will convene tomorrow and her presence is required," he said as he turned for the door. Purrlock scampered in, almost tripping Colin as he brushed past his feet, and jumped up onto the table to bathe himself.

"Well I'll let her know you're looking for her if she comes back," said Maralyn as she began scrubbing a large cast iron pot. She stopped and turned to Colin as he swatted at Purrlock playfully. "Thanks, love. That could have gotten ugly. I'm glad you came along when you did," she grinned.

"It was my pleasure, fair maiden," he beamed, bowing deeply. "Those lads were lucky I spared them your wrath. They should know better than to anger the woman who prepares their supper." He turned and slipped out the door, smiling as he heard Maralyn's laughter ring forth from the kitchen.

Colin roamed the fortress unsure of where to start looking for Kaetryn. Everyone he encountered had neither seen nor heard of her whereabouts. Eventually he reached the main hall, where a group of hired guards loitered, evidentially preparing to leave. He spotted Teris shaking hands with a wealthy and regal looking man, dressed in fine silk and cotton. As he approached the group, a young girl with curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes smiled demurely at him, batting her eyes and blushing. Her eyes danced from his muscular arms and neck, to his navy linen shirt and rough leather vest, before glided down his stomach and resting just below his fine leather belt. Her eyes flicked back to his face and she smiled suggestively at him, but Colin ignored her and took his place beside Teris.

"Please pass along our gratitude to the rest of the members of your house, Josse. The Wardens would not be as well off were it not for the generosity of those such as yourself," Teris stated with an heir of officialdom.

Just then, a servant Elf came running through the main door and stopped before the man and his guards. "M'lord, the horses are ready and waiting just outside the front gate," he said with a quick bow, keeping his eyes averted to the ground.

Josse nodded and turned to leave, giving Teris one last nod of recognition. The girl followed, but not before giving a sly wink towards Colin-an action that caused Josse to snort and yank her forward at a quickened pace.

When everyone had cleared out of the main hall, Teris turned to Colin with an exasperated sigh. "I grow weary of these sycophants seeking praise and gratitude," he groaned, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Just wait 'til you're First Warden, my friend," Colin chuckled, slapping Teris on the back in jest. "Then even the King will be seeking your praise!"

"Perish the thought, Colin. I'd welcome the position like I would a Darkspawn sword in my side," he scoffed. "Besides. I'm as likely to be made First Warden as the Empress of Orlais."

Colin laughed. "Nonsense! You're the finest Warden-Commander that I've ever had the pleasure of serving under. I knew as soon as they made you head of the Council that you'd one day be First Warden."

"Oh not you too!" Teris chuckled. Noticing Colin's change in appearance, he stopped and examined Colin with curious scrutiny. "What happened to your hair?" he asked, perturbed.

"I was sparring on the training field this morning; the lout got his dagger a little too close to my neck, and it came down to my hair or my throat. Alas, I chose to live as an ugly man rather than die as a pretty one," he sighed in mock sorrow.

Teris let out a full-bellied laugh. "A wise decision, my friend," he said, placing his hand on Colin's shoulder. "But tell me: have you delivered that message to the mage woman yet?"

Colin frowned. "No, ser. I have been unable to locate her, and she must be in disguise for no one has seen her about, either."

"Mages," whinged Teris. "Never around when you need them, and incessantly complaining when you don't."

"I think you'll find that she's not like most mages, ser," Colin reproached with a disapproving frown. "I had the pleasure of sharing a drink with her late last night. She's quite..," Colin trailed off, waving his hands as he searched for the right word, and Teris staring at him in surprised amusement. "Formidable," he decided.

"Hm," said Teris, deep in thought. "Have you checked the library? That's where the mages can usually be found."

"No, ser, but that will probably be the next place I look," was Colin's response.

"Good. Let me know if you haven't found her by supper, and I'll send a whole company to search for her," Teris said as he turned to leave. "Now I've got about a hundred other things that require my immediate attention. Good day, old friend."

"And to you, Teris," saluted Colin before advancing towards the door that lead to the east wing.

The library was a vast and grand alcove nestled atop the east wing of Weisshaupt fortress. It had a high, arched ceiling with many tinted windows that cast an array of colour throughout the room. Amongst the innumerable rows of bookshelves were many mages and scholars, scribbling away on vellum or chatting with one another in hushed voices. Colin's presence seemed to make them uneasy, for they stopped and stared at him as he walked past. Finally he came across a wizened old man with a long, snow-white beard, who approached him cautiously. He leaned heavily on his plain wooden staff, and Colin wondered if he was able to walk without it.

"Can I help you, young man?" he asked, with an unsteady voice, one bushy eyebrow raised inquisitively.

Colin examined him quickly; he bore no mark indicating his rank. "Are you a Warden, ser mage?" he asked finally, unsure of how to address him.

"Bah! Do I look like I'm capable of gallivanting about, chasing after Darkspawn?" he asked incredulously, his voice cracking with age.

"Uh... I meant no offense, ser. I only ask because I am in search of a Warden mage-a woman. I was hoping you might have seen her," he stammered, trying desperately not to entice the old man into lighting him on fire.

"Hmph. You'll have to be more specific than that, lad. I've seen many mages in these halls," he grumbled, his patience wearing thin from Colin's inconveniencing interrogation.

"Well she has long brown hair... and she's about this tall. She's about 25 years old..," he said, raising his hand to shoulder-height as he struggled to find descriptors that he deemed appropriate for the old man.

The ancient mage stroked his beard thoughtfully for a moment before answering. "There was a woman who wandered through here not too long ago matching that rather... _eloquent_ description," he grumbled sarcastically. "I believe she went out on the terrace, but I know not whether she is still there."

Colin nodded his thanks and walked quickly towards the terrace entrance, eager to get away from the irritated glare of the old man. He stepped out onto the terrace, which was raised high above the Anderfels, and sighed with relief when he spotted Kaetryn gazing out into the distance.

Kaetryn sighed as the cold wind swept over the balcony and whipped through her hair. She closed her eyes and smiled as the bitter air reminded her of autumn in Ferelden. Opening her eyes again, she pushed the memory of home from her thoughts. Her confrontation with Tab earlier that morning still bothered her, and she longed to be back at Vigil's Keep among her recruits.

"Ugh. Stop moping. There's no sense in pouting-it's not going to bring you back to Ferelden any sooner," she scolded herself quietly. She glared with determination out into the distance, but the sadness soon washed over her again, and she surrendered to it. The steppe below her was completely bare, save for a few patches of thick, reed-like grass scattered sparsely across the plains.

Something caught her attention out of the corner of her eye, and she leaned against the wall to get a better look. On the horizon, she could just make out a small caravan of men on horseback, marching south towards Orlais. She longed to go with them, far from this desolate and unwelcoming place.

"Aren't you cold, my lady?" came a familiar voice from behind her. She turned and saw a tall, muscular man with short black hair and striking blue eyes. It took her a moment to realise that the man standing before her was Colin, the warrior who had kept her company the previous night. He looked completely different with short hair.

She tugged at her necklace, pulling it out of her gown, revealing it to be a worn copper amulet that bore the faded crest of the Circle of Magi on a simple chain. She smiled at him, happy to see a familiar face, and one that was not resentful of her presence.

"Ah, a magical amulet. I should have guessed," he mused, laughing warmly. He took a few more steps forward and stood beside Kaetryn as she turned to continue gazing out at the desolate plains. After a long, comfortable silence, she spoke.

"So this is what ultimately happens to a country ravaged by a Blight," she remarked, distant and melancholy.

Colin looked at her out of the corner of his eye and saw a little girl, homesick and lonely. Returning his eyes to the horizon, he said. "Two Blights, actually; the first of which lasted about two hundred years. If you're worried that Ferelden will end up looking like this place, don't. She'll return to her former glory soon enough."

Reflection on Colin's words caused her to laugh. "Ha! You've obviously never been to Ferelden. There's nothing glorious about a country consisting entirely of mud and trees," she giggled, banishing the sadness from her face and turning to face Colin.

Colin looked back at her again, and smiled when he found the jovial woman he had met the night before. "Well I wasn't going to come right out and say it..," he said jokingly. They locked eyes, sharing a moment of silent contentment.

"What happened to you hair, Colin?" she asked abruptly, appearing slightly amused but also concerned.

He stared blankly at her for a moment before remembering that his hair was drastically different. "Ah, yes. Well last night, after you left, Maralyn accidentally dumped the contents of her stewing pot into the fire and it went out. I got the bright idea of pouring some of that Qunari liquor onto it to get it going again," he lied, gaining confidence as he went along. "I was able to turn my head just in time to spare my eyebrows, but Maralyn couldn't fetch a pail of water fast enough to save the rest of my head," he concluded with a tremendous smile.

Kaetryn examined him as he regaled the dubious tale. She searched his face and neck and didn't find any burn marks. "He must have already been to a healer," she surmised. It was more believable to her than the alternative-that he'd cut his hair simply because she had made an innocent joke. She shrugged it off and laughed. "Oh I wish I'd stuck around to witness that! Perhaps I could have used magic and spared your luscious locks!" she jested, holding out her hand and allowing a small flame to engulf it, crackling and nipping at the air.

Colin eyed the flame cautiously before taking a step away from her hand. He slapped the stone wall that lined the edge of the terrace in fake revelation, exclaiming "Damn! I should have thought of that!'

Noticing his discomfort towards magic, she extinguished the flame with a wave of her hand and looked away, blushing with embarrassment. Sometimes it was easy for her to forget that not everyone had the ability to manipulate the primal forces of nature, some even fearing those who do. Devout Andrastians despise mages outright, viewing their gift as a marring curse. She hadn't pegged Colin as the religious type, but two years spent among the nobles of the Ferelden court taught her that it was best to hide her magical talents from those around her. Trust and respect would always come faster to the mundane.

Colin saw her face redden and wanted to apologize. It wasn't that he hated mages; he knew that the fact that she had arcane talents made her a vital addition to the Grey Wardens. Not many mages had the physical fortitude to survive the Joining, so he should show more respect for her obvious skill and not to jump like a frightened ninny if she decided to summon the essence of fire. But his limited knowledge of magic led him to believe that it was unpredictable and hard for even the most proficient mage to control. He couldn't help but feel aversion towards it.

"So… if I ever need to relight a fireplace, where might I find you?" he asked shyly, shattering the awkward silence.

"Three floors up from the kitchen, sixth door on the left." she replied, after a moment's thought, pleased that Colin had been the first to speak.

"Ah. I wished I'd known that earlier. Would have saved me some time tracking you down," he remarked.

"Huh? You were looking for me?" she asked, surprised and intrigued.

Colin reached into his vest and pulled out a scroll with the official Grey Warden seal emblazoned on the front. "Aye. An official summons to appear before the Council tomorrow. My superior asked me to deliver it to you this morning." Kaetryn took it from him and broke the seal with a harsh snap. She unrolled the vellum and examined the contents quickly.

"I see. I was wondering when they were going to get around to this. I was worried they summoned me here under false pretence, and were planning on having me hang around for a while, taking up space," she muttered with slight irritation.

"Fear not, my lady. I'm sure this is all just a formality. You'll be able to return to your mud and your trees soon enough," he laughed, trying to brighten her mood.

"Heh. I've come a long way for a simple formality, Colin," she sighed. "I hope that there is more to this meeting than just congratulations and a hearty slap on the back." She rolled the parchment back up and tucked it into a hidden pocket within her cloak, and returned to studying the colour of the sky as the sun began to set.

Colin was determined to cheer her up; he couldn't resist a challenge. "If I knew what was in store for you tomorrow, I'd tell you," he promised. "Unfortunately, the going ons within the Council are kept quite secret from the rest of us." He examined the darkening of the sky far in the east, and it gave him an idea. "What I can tell you, is that there is a fine meal waiting for us at Maralyn's if you're interested. She tells me her famous lamb and pea stew is a traditional Ferelden dish. I find it a bit tasteless and bland myself, but perhaps it will be to your liking?" he coaxed.

Kaetryn grimaced, remembering the disgusting gruel that Alistair tried to pass off as fine Ferelden cuisine during the year they had travelled together, and she smiled, despite the unpleasant memory. "You know, I could tell you about some truly horrific Ferelden foods," she laughed.

"Oh it can't possibly compare to some of the things the locals eat. Did you stop at any Ander taverns on your journey here? They wait until some poor foreign slob wanders in and then they serve up this foul soup that reminds me of boiled socks and piss," chortled Colin.

With a shiver, Kaetryn wrapped her silk cloak tighter around her body. "Oh you think that's bad? Let's get out of this cold and I'll tell you a real culinary horror story!" she shot back, laughing. Colin smiled, and motioned for Kaetryn to lead the way. The mages in the library glared with irritation and disapproval as their banter disrupted the imperial quiet of their sanctum, and so they hurried back to Maralyn's kitchen where she and Purrlock waited with ale and a hot meal.


	4. Chapter 3

Kaetryn yawned as she trudged up the stairs leading to the North Tower of Weisshaupt. She wasn't sure if she was heading in the right direction, but the Elven girl who had been sent to fetch her, had been clear about two things. First, that Kaetryn was to follow the spiral stairs until she could no longer walk in the upwards direction, and secondly, that only Council members, as well as those who they summoned, were permitted to climb to the top of the tower. She stopped to take a break from the endless climbing and leaned on her staff, listening for the footsteps of others on the polished granite stairs. Hearing nothing, she continued onwards, noticing the cold freshness that hung in the air of the higher reaches of the tower. She yawned again, smiling at the memory of a joke she had shared with Colin. He had been unable to give her any clues as to what to expect from the Council, but curiosity spurred her forward, despite being tired from the previous night's revelries.

It had taken her almost fifteen minutes to reach the very top of Weisshaupt, and the plain, wooden door that sat at the top of the stairs was almost non-sequitur compared to the domineering grandeur of the rest of the fortress. She stood outside of it for another minute to catch her breath, and listened for sounds from within, unsure if she should knock or just enter. The guttural noise of a throat clearing and the quiet rustle of paper were the only sounds that she could detect. Straightening out her grey and white robes, she pushed on the black iron handle and was surprised to find it locked. Wondering why there would be a need for a lock made her uneasy. She knocked three times, and a few heart-pounding moments later, a tall man with dark skin and greying black hair opened the door.

"Ah, greetings, sister. Come in and take a seat," he said as he gestured inside the room.

She looked around in awe. The room contained a large, annular table with twenty or so men seated around it, scribbling on notes or peering at her with expectant curiosity, and the room itself had a high, rounded ceiling, with circular walls intermittently broken by many openings that lead to larger, cavernous alcoves. The alcoves in turn tapered off, and became long platforms that protruded out into the sky. The man who had opened the door noticed her bewildered stare and laughed. "Back in the glory days, this was the Aerie where the griffons would roost," he said with a faded Orlesian accent.

Kaetryn's eyes widened. She had been a Grey Warden for three years, but the legends of the old Wardens still enraptured her like a small child; her favourite parts had always been when the Wardens would swoop down out of the fog of war, the griffons with their ivory-white wings and talons of steel bearing a Warden brandishing their infamous Silverite amour.

"I am Teris, head of the Council of Wardens. I am given to understand that your name is Kaetryn," he said warmly.

"Ah... yes, ser," she stammered, unable to take her eyes off a sheltered niche where she imagined a griffon's nest had once been. "If they even made nests," she thought to herself.

"Well met. Please, take a seat and we can begin," Teris said, pulling out a chair closest to the door for her to sit. She sat and began to examine the assortment of men before her. The majority of them were Human, but there were three Elves-one of which was a mage, and two dwarves. She had expected a group of old men, but no one looked over the age of forty-five. With a pang, she remembered what Alistair had told her about the sacrifice Wardens made by taking the Joining; she would eventually succumb to the taint in less than thirty years time. Grey Wardens never died of old age.

As Teris walked around the outside of the table, he named everyone that he walked past, stopping to place his hand on the shoulder of a red-haired Dwarf that had nodded off. He awoke with a start, and Kaetryn had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop from laughing. No one else seemed to notice, either watching the newcomer or enthralled in paper work. Finally he took his seat across from Kaetryn and laid out some vellum and a quill in front of him. The walls did a surprisingly good job of keeping the wind at bay, but the air was thin and chilly nevertheless, the only source of heat being a large brazier in the middle of the table. Beside Teris was a large, wooden chair that bore an ornate carving of a griffon in flight. It was conspicuously empty.

Almost on cue, Teris looked up from his stack of vellum and said "The First Warden is in Hossberg on business with the King. He's very busy, but he asked me to extended his welcome. He also wanted me to thank you for your service to the Order in Ferelden."

Kaetryn reddened. "I had help," was her only response.

"Ah yes," he said, shuffling through his papers. "Alistair. I understand he is the last of the... Theirin bloodline, and has withdrawn from the Grey Wardens to take up the governance of Ferelden. Is this true?"

"Not exactly. He gave me the impression that if the Wardens really needed him, he would willingly take up his father's sword and offer his service once again," she explained.

Teris made a few quick strokes over the vellum in his hand and scribbled a quick note on three separate pages. "Hadrel, could you please make a note of that was well?" he said, turning to the Elf on his left. Hadrel simply nodded and began scribbling furiously. "I'm afraid it is not a matter of what he is willing to do, but what he must do. Considering the circumstances, we are willing to allow Alistair to concern himself primarily with his duties as King. However, we reserve the right to recall him to arms without delay or hesitation at our behest. As the Warden-Commander of Ferelden, it falls to you to convey this to him, as well as ensure that he does not shirk his responsibilities to the Wardens."

Kaetryn felt a mixture of relief and resentment. She had been sad to watch him leave her side to take the crown, and it felt strange not have his light-hearted banter constantly interrupting her thoughts. But she knew that Ferelden was important to him, and the throne had rightfully fallen to him-even if he was a bastard. She also knew that it would benefit the Grey Wardens to have a King with a sympathetic ear, considering the tumultuous history between the Ferelden royal family and the Grey Wardens of old. "I understand," she said flatly, burying her conflicting emotions.

Teris returned to leafing through his notes. Kaetryn eyed him warily. They still hadn't told her why they had demanded her presence. The messenger had arrived on a particularly stormy day, but declined to wait out the storm as her personal guest, leaving as soon he had finished eating a quick meal. He offered no information about the details of his travels and came bearing nothing more than a single sheet of parchment and the clothes on his back. The scroll itself had been vague: she was to leave immediately, report to Weisshaupt fortress as soon as she could, and Seneschal Varel was to oversee the Wardens of Ferelden during her indefinite absence. Kaetryn travelled to Denerim to advise Alistair of her absence. He had actually managed to convince everyone that he should accompany her, but Eamon had refused, arguing that it was throwing himself into unnecessary danger was what caused Cailan's death, and that the Bannorn would resent his extended absence. While she thought him to be a bit of a spoilsport, she was also glad to see that someone was protecting Alistair, especially from himself.

"Right. Let's get down to brass tacks, shall we?" said Teris as he folded his hands in front of him. "You were summoned for two main reasons. The first was to inform us of the details of the fifth Blight for the sake of our records. The second can be discussed 's start with Ostagar; can you tell us what transpired between Duncan and King... Cailan?"

Not much that happened prior to the Battle of Ostagar stuck out in Kaetryn's memory. She had arrived with Alistair and the other Wardens ahead of Duncan, and she had spent as much time as she could scouting with a small group of the King's army in the Korcari Wilds. Being a mage had heightened her sensitivity to the Darkspawn much faster than the other Wardens, and Duncan has used this to their advantage , despite Kaetryn's resentment. There was still a lot of tension between her and her fellow Wardens, especially the young recruit who had been a Templar-in-training, so she took comfort in the opportunity to be away from them.

She had only seen Cailan three times before the battle. The first was the night he paid a visit to the Grey Warden's camp to discuss strategy for the upcoming confrontation with the Horde-or so he said. It seemed to Kaetryn that he only wanted to hear bedtime stories and shake hands with his childhood heroes. He didn't seem very Kingly to her, in fact she didn't even know who he was when he had stopped her at the gates of Ostagar after she had returned from the Wilds late that night.

The moon was glaring ominously in the sky over the Korcari Wilds, and wolves howled woefully in the distance. Kaetryn lagged behind the soldiers, eager for a few precious moments alone. They didn't speak to her unless it was necessary; after all, she was a mage who was rumoured to have never been a part of the Circle, and she wasn't exactly an inviting conversationalist either. She had spent the better part of her life as a nomad, her only company being her mentor Casturn, and the occasional run-in with the Dalish elves. While Casturn had been particularly strict with his teachings about social graces and table manners, she never really had much practice using those skills. She knew only how to avoid soldiers, not forge friendships with them.

"Hail!" called Cailan enthusiastically. He was wearing ornate massive armour plated with gold, and carried an equally ostentatious two-handed blade. He was flanked by two heavily armoured guardsmen, who were quickly waved away as Cailan jogged over to her.

She blushed, feeling rather ignoble in her make-shift tunic of stolen scraps of leather and thick cloth, her long, auburn hair tied up in a simple pony tail. Taking a step back into a defensive pose, she eyed him with suspicion as he approached.

"I'm glad I've finally run into you," he said, stopping a few feet in front of her. Noticing that she was examining him closely, he extended his hand warmly. "My name is Cailan. You must be Duncan's newest recruit that I've heard so much about. 'Kaetryn,' as I have been led to believe," he said with a smile.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "All sorts of obnoxious lies, I'm sure," she thought to herself. "Yes, that is my name," she said stiffly. "But I don't have time to chat-important Grey Wardening to do I'm afraid," she scoffed sarcastically as she turned to leave, ignoring his outstretched arm.

"Then I shan't keep you! But I do have some questions, if you'd indulge me. Would you permit me to escort you back to your camp?" he asked kindly, seemingly unfazed by her rudeness.

Kaetryn rolled her eyes in exasperation. She did not fancy the idea of entertaining some spoiled noble's son with contrived tales of evading Templars and turning small children into frogs. "If you must," she sighed flatly, quickening her pace and digging her staff sharply into the ground to illustrate her displeasure.

They walked in silence for a time, before Cailan broke the silence with a hearty laugh. "So tell me, have you encountered many Darkspawn before?" he asked.

In truth, Kaetryn had only encountered them once: on the day of her Joining. One must kill Darkspawn in order to collect a vial of their blood for the ritual, but Duncan had explained that the details of the Joining were a closely guarded secret, and not to be discussed with outsiders. "Once is enough," she replied bluntly, leaving out the part where she drank of their blood and mastered their taint.

"Indeed. My men and I encountered a few small bands of them during our march from Denerim. Such bestial creatures! And they fight with such intensity! They never show fear or retreat… they are certainly a worthy foe!" he chattered excitedly. He sounded almost gleeful as he described the monsters that threatened to destroy Ferelden. "But how does a mage such as yourself develop those keen tracking skills? I take it you are not from the Circle," he mused.

Kaetryn had learned to track deer and small game from the Dalish, a skill that had sustained her existence with Casturn in the Brecilian forest. The taint within her blood had imbued her with the ability to sense the presence of Darkspawn, especially in such large numbers, and the two abilities combined made her a highly proficient tracker of the Horde.

"Such skills are necessary for surviving in the forest. I would have starved if the Dalish had not shown me a trick or two," she said, her irritation building.

"Ah so you have experience in dealing with the Dalish! I have heard much about them but I have never ventured far enough into the forest to have any hope of encountering them. I would be very interested in learning more of our transient neighbours. What can you tell me about them?" he asked, deeply curious.

Kaetryn stopped and stared at him with displeasure. The sudden halt silenced Cailan and he looked at her expectantly, like a puppy awaiting some table scraps. He was a handsome man, with long golden hair and soft blue eyes, but his good looks were not enough to lessen her ire."Did you just want to have a friendly chat over some tea, or do you have something specific you intend to waste my time with?"

Cailan frowned, looking stricken. "I'm sorry miss. Have I offended you in some way?" he said.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kaetryn could see Cailan's guards looming a close distance away, and she could feel their eyes glaring at her, despite the heavy-plated helmets obscuring their faces. "If it were possible to be offended by your naivety, then I probably would be!" she ranted. "You seem awfully happy that a scourge of demonic beasts are clawing their way northward, where they will surely slaughter and devour every man, woman, and child they encounter. Defeating the Darkspawn will _not_ be easy. I have gone into the Wilds everyday to locate the edge of the Horde, and everyday my trip gets shorter than the day's before. I have sensed them, felt their presence in my very blood and heard their conspiring whispers. Their numbers far surpass our own. I sincerely hope this _King _of ours has a few tricks up his sleeve, because I foresee many lives being lost within the next few days. Not that it would matter to you, I doubt you'll be in the front lines with us; you'll just be sitting on your horse somewhere up high and away from danger. Then you'll run home and tell your rich noble father all about your heroic deeds." Cailan just stared at her with growing distress. "Please do not waste any more of my time with your childish fantasies of war and glory," she snapped, and with that she turned and stomped back to the camp where the Grey Wardens were situated. Cailan did not follow, but watched her leave, aghast.

When she finally reached the camp, she headed straight for the centre, where a large cauldron bubbled with a thin but savoury stew. Alistair, a Knight conscripted from the Chantry in Denerim just five months before Kaetryn herself had been conscripted, was greedily slurping a bowl of the stew by the fire. She ignored him-their relationship was strained to put it lightly. Any chance of camaraderie developing between them was hampered by Alistair's childish irreverence towards everything, and Kaetryn's resentment of his Templar origins. He noticed her approach and handed her a bowl and a spoon with a cheeky grin on his face, stew dribbling down his chin.

"Did you have a lovely time chasing Darkspawn today?" he smirked as Kaetryn helped herself to some supper. She disregarded him completely, and sat down on the other side of the fire so that the flames obstructed Alistair's gaze. In response, he stood up and looked down on her with his arms folded. "Still not talking to me, are we? Look, I said I was sorry. I know that perhaps it was a bit insensitive of me to ask if you could conjure yourself a better personality, and I completely agree with you; that limerick was entirely inappropriate. However it was my first attempt at poetry and you had just thrown my pack into the river. But I have forgiven you for all of that! Can't we just shake hands and be friends already?" he said with a hint of sarcasm in his otherwise honest voice.

Kaetryn eyed him with skepticism, before blowing on a spoonful of stew to cool it off. "Fine, let's call a truce," she announced sarcastically. "But how shall we celebrate our new-found peace, Templar? Shall we skip merrily through a field of flowers and sing songs about how the power of friendship is mightier than any sword or spell?"

"Yeah, yeah alright. Don't hurt yourself or anything," he scoffed, sitting back down and returning to his meal with indignation. They ate under a tense silence before Kaetryn finally spoke.

"So was it you, then? Have you been telling stuffy nobles all about the scary Witch that Duncan picked up in the woods one day?" she asked Alistair accusingly.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," he replied flatly.

"Please. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Who else would enjoy telling tall-tales to immature rich boys with nothing better to do but pretend they're heroes and march around with their Daddy's hired soldiers?" she retaliated brusquely.

"Well I'm flattered that you think I'm worthy of keeping such lofty company, but I'm the last person a self-respecting noble would have a conversation with," he joked. Kaetryn couldn't help but chuckle; if there was one redeeming quality Alistair had, it was his willingness to deride himself as much as he would mock anyone else. "Why? What have you heard?" he asked curiously.

"It's not so much what I heard as what I was subjected to," she said. "When I got back from the Wilds, some pretty boy ambushed me, wanting to talk about Darkspawn and how fortunate it is that we get to be the first ones they slaughter."

Ignoring her macabre sense of humour, he nodded. "Uh huh. Most of them are only here for the glory, but what has that got to do with you?"

"He already knew my name, and since I've never spoken to the likes of him in my entire life, someone must have told him all about me. Figured you'd be the first to volunteer information, Templar."

"Oh would you stop calling me that?" he said, his brows furrowed. "I was an Initiate-that's all. I never became a full Templar, and I never even wanted to devote my life to the Chantry. So let's just forget about our pasts-I'm a Grey Warden now, just like you."

"I've heard you call me 'Apostate'. That sounds like something a Templar would say, don't you think?" she shot back.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you that eavesdropping is rude?" he snapped, locking eyes with her. The firelight added an over-the-top, angry intensity to their faces that made them both burst into a fit of laughter. When they finally stopped, he sighed "Yes, I may have referred to you as such on occasion, but the Chantry doesn't provide us with a wide variety of vocabulary for mages. You were never part of the Circle, and to them that means you're either a hedge mage or an Apostate. You don't look like a Wilder shaman and you're certainly not one of those Dalish Keepers, so you're not technically a hedge mage, are you?" He stood and walked to the other side of the fire and sat down beside Kaetryn at an arm's length away. "You leave me at a loss for words, I guess."

He smiled, and his warm, hazel eyes and lop-sided grin made Kaetryn soften; she was tired of feeling at odds with everyone around her. It was hard to feel that she belonged with the medley of men she was now forced to live with, but that didn't mean she had to take her frustration out on them. It had only solidified her standing as the company's pariah.

"How about you just call me 'Kaetryn', and I'll just call you 'Alistair'. Then there won't be any confusion about what we technically are and technically aren't," she said, almost smiling.

"Fair enough," he winked, shovelling more food into his mouth.

They ate in silence for a while, neither really quite sure of what to say to the other. Kaetryn yawned and fiddled with her staff. She hated going to sleep, fearing the haunting visions that awaited her when she closed her eyes, but exhaustion was threatening to overcome her completely. The nightmares were getting more frequent, and it was becoming harder and harder to jolt herself awake. At first, they had consisted only of an inky blackness that swallowed Kaetryn whole, and she would wake up screaming, unable to shake the sensation of drowning. After that, they had developed form and colour, and she would often find herself back in the Brecilian forest, running from unseen monsters. Lately however, she would just wander an endless, barren field, feeling like she was being watched but being unable to find a place to hide. She never saw the creature that watched her, but she felt its cold, calculating eyes upon her, and knew it possessed a great intelligence, poisoned by hatred.

Alistair turned to her and asked "So what was the name of the noble that made the unfortunate mistake of trying to strike up a friendly conversation with you? I bet he'll cry himself to sleep for the next week and a half."

Kaetryn finished the last bit of her meal and got up to rinse her bowl in a nearby trough of water. "Oh some stuck-up, high-born name. I wasn't really paying attention," she replied.

"Hm. What did he look like? Maybe I'd recognize him from Denerim," Alistair said whilst filling his bowl for a third time.

"Oh the usual: tall, blonde hair, blue eyes, fancy gold armour that probably cost more than the person it was protecting. He even had a silly entourage following him around in case the rabble decided to get a little fresh. Looked a bit like you, actually," she laughed. "Now I've got to report to Sadon, he'll be wondering why I haven't brought news of the Horde's movements yet," and she snatched her staff away from it's place beside the fire where Alistair was examining it curiously. "I think it was something like... Kalban or... Caygin?"

Alistair dropped his spoon and began hacking as he accidentally inhaled some of the stew. Kaetryn laughed at the pitiful sight. "Maker's breath! You're a pig. You'd think the Chantry would have taught you how to eat without embarrassing yourself." She turned walked away before Alistair had finished coughing the food out of his lungs.

"Hey wait! His name wasn't Cailan, was it?" Alistair hollered after her, but she was already gone. "It better not have been!" he shouted. After a moment, Alistair sighed and covered his face with his hands. "By the Maker! She's going to get us all exiled. Again!" he groaned.

Kaetryn weaved her way through the many tents in the Grey Warden camp. She knew Sadon, Duncan's second-in-command, would probably be with the King's Advisor, Loghain. Kaetryn had never spoken to Loghain, but the few times that she encountered him, she had felt a little star-struck. As a small child in a town not far from Gwaren, of which Loghain was the Teryn, she had heard many stories of the Battle of River Dane, and how Loghain had delivered the definitive blow against the Orlesian chevaliers, winning back Ferelden's independence. She just hoped that his legendary tactical prowess would prove to be enough to thwart the unnatural plague that was bearing down on them.

When Kaetryn finally located Sadon, she instead saw him chatting with the noble that had stopped her near the gate leading into the Wilds. She stopped short, and watched them from the shadows. Cailan was excitedly chatting with Sadon, and his guardsmen were positioned on either side of him.

"I have great confidence in the capabilities of the Grey Wardens, Sadon. This battle will be one that bards will sing about for many ages to come," Cailan declared whole-heartedly.

"Your faith is reassuring, your Majesty, but let us not count our blessings before the battle has even begun," said Sadon, trying to maintain a smile.

A twig snapped under her foot, and Kaetryn hissed in anger. The guards immediately drew their swords and placed themselves between Cailan and the shadows where Kaetryn was hiding. She stepped forward slowly until the torches illuminated her face, and glared challengingly at the armed men before her.

"Ah Kaetryn, I see you have returned. I was beginning to wonder if you had deserted!" Sadon laughed nervously, trying to ease the guards. "Come here, I'd like to introduce you to King Cailan."

Kaetryn froze as quiet mortification tinted the cheeks on her otherwise deadpan face. Cailan looked down at his toes, feeling just as uncomfortable. The guards sheathed their swords slowly, and returned to their protective position behind the King, keeping their vigilant gaze on Kaetryn. After what felt like a year, Kaetryn cleared her throat and walked slowly over to stand beside Sadon in front of the King. She crossed her arms over her chest as Casturn had taught her, and closed her eyes as she gave a low bow. "Your Majesty. It is an honour," she uttered quietly.

Cailan smiled sheepishly and nodded his head. Sadon looked at Kaetryn and scowled, wondering what had transpired between her and the King. He grunted and produced a map that he laid on the table as he moved the candles out of the way, hoping to clear the air. "Right. Let's have it then. Here is where you reported the Horde to be most concentrated yesterday," he said, pointing to a remote valley at the edge of the map. "Judging by how long you were gone, I would assume they have not moved very far since then, yes?"

Kaetryn tore her eyes from the King's face and picked up a quill from the table, marking three large X's at various points in the Wilds. "As far as I could tell, they have not moved at all, ser. However the breadth of the Horde has grown considerably," she remarked as she drew a long arch where she thought the edge of their encampment was located. "We also encountered three large groups heading directly toward Ostagar. I think they know that we're waiting for them here," she said grimly.

"That is unsurprising," said Sadon. "They can sense us, just as we sense them. A large group of us assembled in one place is sure to draw their attention. How many Darkspawn were in these groups?" he asked, pointing at the large X's.

"This one was just a group of seven Genlocks," she said, pointing at the X closest to the gates of Ostagar. "But these two had to have been at least twenty-strong. There was even one that could wield magic," she shuddered. "I've never seen anything like that."

"Ah that must be an Emissary!" Cailan chimed in. "What was it like? Did it possess a weapon such as yours?" he chattered, pointing at Kaetryn's staff.

"Um... no, your Majesty. It did not," she sighed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "From what I could tell, it did not need one."

"Fascinating!" Cailan exclaimed. Kaetryn looked back at the map to conceal her aggravation, and Sadon did his best to stifle a frown.

"Do you have anything else to report?" Sadon asked. "If not, I'd like you to rest up. Duncan is expected to arrive tomorrow with a collection of new recruits, and he wants you and Alistair to be prepared; he has a special assignment in mind for you both."

"What are we supposed to do? Give the recruits a guided tour?" she asked sarcastically.

Sadon glowered in disapproval. "Duncan will explain tomorrow, when the time is right. Now if there is nothing else, be on your way."

"Yes, ser." She bowed once more to Cailan and shot a smirk at the guards, before turning to leave. She walked quickly, eager to return to the warmth of the fire and when she returned, Alistair was gone.

Duncan arrived early the next morning with a group of eight new recruits, and summoned both Kaetryn and Alistair before they had time to commit themselves to other tasks. The recruits themselves were a varied mix, three Humans, three Elves and two Dwarves. Kaetryn was pleased to see that three of them, two of the Elves and a Dwarf with hideous face brands, were women. She was looking forward to no longer being referred to as "the new girl."

The Humans were all men; Daveth, a cutpurse from Denerim, Ser Jory of Redcliffe, and a quiet, mournful young man that Kaetryn recognized as Aedan, the younger brother of Fergus Cousland, the chatty noble-born who led the scouting missions into the Wilds.

The only mage that Duncan had managed to convince the Templars to release from their watch was a very young Elven girl whose name was Neria. Duncan also recruited two other Elves, one bearing the tell-tale ink markings of the Dalish on his face. His name was Theron, and the other Elf, a maidan who appeared to be from a city Alienage, was called Kallian.

Kaetryn had never seen a Dwarf before, but Casturn had told her many stories of the grande city of Orzammar, buried deep within the Frostback Mountains. He had also been very interested in Dwarven politics, but Kaetryn did not share his fascination with serpentine tales of intrigue and treachery. The male Dwarf carried himself with poise, but also with an air of indignation that led Kaetryn to believe that he was born of the Noble Caste. He called himself Duran, and the woman with the burn marks of the Casteless on her face answered to the name Natia.

The recruits assembled by the Grey Warden camp and were preparing to head out into the Wilds while Duncan spoke to Kaetryn and Alistair in private.

"Are you seriously planning on sending me out on some secret mission with _her_?" Alistair whined. "She'll probably feed me to the Darkspawn and tell you all that I just got lost or something!"

"Oh how oddly perceptive of you Alistair! You read my mind!" snapped Kaetryn, resisting the urge to kick him in the shins.

"That's enough, both of you," Duncan groaned. He was aware that both Kaetryn and Alistair were young, but he also knew that he must rid them of their immaturity quickly if they were going to survive as Grey Wardens. Alistair was one of the most promising swordsmen that Duncan had ever seen, and Kaetryn's unusual fighting technique, a startling mixture of magic and melee, made her far more formidable than any Circle mage. If they couldn't learn to like each other, then they'd just have to learn how to rely on one another-friendship could wait. "You two will head into the Wilds to perform two tasks. The first is to gather eight vials of Darkspawn blood, one for each recruit."

"Oh this sounds familiar," muttered Kaetryn under her breath. "And the second task?"

"There was once a Grey Warden archive in the Wilds, abandoned long ago when we could no longer afford to maintain such remote outposts. It has recently come to our attention that some scrolls have been left behind, magically sealed to protect them," Duncan explained. "I want you both to retrieve these scrolls if you can."

"What kind of scrolls are these, Duncan?" asked Alistair.

"Old Treaties, if you're curious. Promises of support made to the Grey Wardens long ago," Duncan smiled. "They were once considered only formalities. With so many having forgotten their commitments to us, I suspect it may be a good idea to have something to remind them with."

"How long ago was this?" asked Kaetryn. "Will they even still be there?"

Duncan stroked his beard as he considered her question. "It's possible the scrolls may have been destroyed or even stolen, though the seal's magic should have protected them. Only a Grey Warden can break such a seal."

"I don't understand... why leave such things in a ruin if they're so valuable?" Alistair cut in.

Duncan frowned. "It was assumed we would someday return." He gazed off into the distance, examining the edge of the Wilds that would soon be flooded with Darkspawn. "A great many things were assumed that have not held true."

Kaetryn followed his gaze and glared, wishing to be anywhere but Ostagar. "Right. Find the archives and eight vials of Darkspawn blood. Understood," she announced, gathering up some provisions and stuffing them into her pack.

"Watch over your charges Alistair, and Kaetryn, make sure they return quickly, and safely," ordered Duncan.

Alistair beamed. "We will!"

"Then may the Maker watch over your path," Duncan said as he placed one hand on each of their shoulders. "I will see you both when you return."

Duncan had given them a map with the approximate location of the abandoned outpost, and by the time they got there, they had managed to collect the eight vials of Darkspawn blood needed for the forthcoming ritual. There were many more Darkspawn in the Wilds than the day before, and when they discovered the scouting party that had been sent out that morning had been slaughtered, with the exception of one man, Kaetryn demanded that they return to Ostagar and warn the soldiers. Alistair refused, saying that it would take a much larger group of Darkspawn to pose a threat to Ostagar, and that he hadn't sensed one of that size yet. They argued back and forth for a few minutes, leaving the recruits to watch in exasperation, before they decided to stop wasting precious time and find the ruined outpost before they were all trampled by the Horde.

The ruin itself served as a small Darkspawn encampment, and after they all lie slain, Alistair found the young City Elf gravely wounded. The majority of Kaetryn's mana had been spent battling the Hurlock Alpha that had been in command of the bivouac, and she was only able to heal a small portion of her wounds before she was overcome with fatigue. The Circle mage stepped forward and managed to save the Elven girl from death, proving to be a talented Spirit Healer. Kaetryn was impressed, and revised her opinion that all Circle apprentices were weak and fearful creatures, easily dominated by the Templars.

Leaning on her staff in exhaustion, Kaetryn hobbled over to a large wooden chest in the corner of the ruins. It looked like it had been smashed by a very large maul, and it no longer contained any scrolls. Alistair rubbed the small patch of hair on his chin for a moment, deep in thought, when a voice called out to them from atop a nearby hill.

"Well, well... What do we have here?" cooed the raven-haired woman. She was dressed in clothing similar to Kaetryn's; made of many different types of cloth and leather roughly stitched together, but in a far more revealing style. Her clothes were decorated with feathers; teeth and various baubles, making the young woman appear as untamed as the Wilds she hailed from. She began to descend from the hill slowly, and Kaetryn positioned herself between the newcomer and the recruits. Kaetryn noticed that the woman's carried a long, wooden staff and knew right away that she must be a mage; probably an Apostate like herself, though she wasn't sure if that was something to celebrate or lament.

"Are you a vulture, I wonder? A scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned?" she giggled demurely. "Or merely an intruder, come into these Darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey?" The woman had drawn quite close to the group, which spooked Alistair, so he drew his sword, causing the others to draw their weapons and take a few steps backwards. Kaetryn just held her ground, leaning on her staff and examining the woman, whom she noticed had yellow, feral eyes. "This does not bode well," she remarked silently in her head.

Frustrated at not having received a response yet, the woman snapped, "What say you, hmm? Scavenger, or intruder?"

Kaetryn straightened as Alistair stepped forward to stand by her side. "I would first know who you are, and where you come from," she said, trying to banish the shaky weariness from her voice.

The woman giggled at that response. "You are the intruder, here. I believe the first question is rightfully mine," she winked. Not giving Kaetryn a chance to respond, she marched past the group to stand at the edge of the ruins where the bushes were thickest. "I have watched your progress for some time. 'Where do they go?' I wondered, 'Why are they here?' And now you disturb ashes none have touched for so long. Why is that?"

"Don't answer her. She looks Chasind, and that means others may be nearby," Alistair muttered under his breath.

"Ooo," shuddered the woman in jest. "You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?"

Alistair glared at her and sheathed his sword. "Yes, swooping _is_ bad."

"She's a Witch of the Wilds, she is! She'll turn us into toads!" Daveth declared, which made Kaetryn scoff. The woman noticed Kaetryn's disgust towards Daveth's comment and smiled at her knowingly.

"Witch of the Wilds? Such idle fancies, those legends. Have you no minds of your own?" she signed with her hand on her hips. Turning to Kaetryn she said "You there! You appear to be somewhat of a Witch yourself! Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine."

Kaetryn did her best to appear calm and unafraid. "You may call me Kaetryn."

The woman smiled with delight. "And you may call me Morrigan, if you wish." Crossing her arms, she examined Kaetryn closely. After a moment she spoke. "Shall I guess your purpose? You sought something in that chest... something that is here no longer?"

"'Here no longer?' You stole them, didn't you? You're... some kind of... sneaky... Witch-thief!" shouted Alistair accusingly.

"How very eloquent," Morrigan giggled sarcastically. "How does one steal from dead men?" she asked, sighing with contempt.

"Quite easily, it seems," muttered Alistair. He began walking quickly towards Morrigan but Kaetryn grabbed his arm and stopped him. "Those documents are Grey Warden property, and I suggest you return them," Alistair said imperiously.

Morrigan glowered indignantly. "I will not, for 'twas not I who removed them! Invoke a name that means nothing here any longer if you wish; I am not threatened," she said dismissively.

"Then can you tell us who it was that did remove them?" came the quiet voice of Aedan, who was standing at the back of the group behind everyone else.

Her eyes flicked to Aedan's youthful face and she smiled. "'Twas my mother, in fact," she shrugged.

"Is that some kind of sodding joke?" grunted Natia, as she fiddled with her Dwarven battle-axe.

Morrigan rolled her eyes. "If so, it seems like the truthful kind, rather than the funny sort, no?"

"Great. She's a thieving, weird-talking, _funny_, sort of Witch," Alistair grumbled.

With a sigh, Morrigan turned away from the group and gazed out at the sunset. "Not all in the Wilds are monsters. Flowers grow as well as toads. If you wish, I will take you to my mother." She moved a couple steps into the thick brush that encroached upon the ruined Warden outpost. "You may ask her for your papers, if you like," she whispered slyly.

"We should get those Treaties but... I dislike this," Alistair whispered in Kaetryn's ear. "Morrigan's sudden appearance... it's too convenient."

Kaetryn examined Morrigan closely, finding nothing overtly threatening about her appearance, but she also knew that magical prowess didn't manifest itself in the form or swollen muscles or a large stature. Still, they were running out of options, and time. "I say we go with her," she declared.

"She'll put us all in the pot, she will! Just you watch!" cried Daveth, taking a few more steps back.

"If the pot's warmer than this forest, it'd be a nice change!" Jory grumbled as he yanked Daveth back into the group.

"Ha! Follow me then, if it pleases you," said Morrigan before striding quickly off into the forest.

The group followed her for about fifteen minutes, mostly in silence, save for Daveth, who continued to whine. "She's a Witch, I tell you! We shouldn't talking to her, least of all following her back to her lair!"

"Quiet, Daveth!" Kallian shushed. "If she's really a Witch, do you want to make her mad?" Daveth shut his mouth and didn't speak again until they were out of the Wilds completely.

Sundown began when they reached a small clearing near a swamp surrounded by torches. Morrigan's mother appeared to be nothing more than a wizened old woman, but both Kaetryn and Neria could sense how thin the Veil that separated this world from the Fade had become in this area, and it made them both very uneasy. The old woman did not introduce herself, instead preferring to chatter incoherently about the nature of faith and logic. Kaetryn remained calm and respectful, and in time the old woman relinquished the Old Treaties, but not before delivering many half-baked, mad-sounding tidbits of wisdom. She handed the scrolls to Kaetryn, but as she reached out to take them, the sage grabbed her and pulled her close. "Take these to your Grey Wardens, and tell them this Blight's threat is greater than they realise," the woman murmured in Kaetryn's ear.

Kaetryn stared at her in confusion, but nodded solemnly. "Thank you for returning them, my lady," she said.

"Such manners!" cried the old woman. "Always in the last place you look... like stockings." Turning away from the group she opened the door to her modest hut and giggled "Oh do you not mind me, you have what you came for!" She stepped inside the hut, and the door slammed immediately, almost as if by magic.

Kaetryn bid Morrigan a goodbye and the group made their way quickly back to Ostagar to deliver the Old Treaties and deliver the sage's warning. Duncan was pleased with their success and invited Kaetryn and Alistair to bear witness to the Joining of the eight new recruits. Alistair agreed, but Kaetryn declined, not wanting to witness the potential deaths of anyone. She returned to the Grey Warden camp, and hid herself from the news that Neria, Daveth, Jory, and Kallian had not survived the Joining.

The third time she had encountered Cailan was later that night as the battle drew nearer. Since she had not attended the Joining ritual, she had been available for Sadon to delegate a task. She was to deliver a message relaying the readiness of the Wardens to Duncan, who was discussing strategy with the King, Loghain, a Revered Mother, and a Senior Enchanter. She tip-toed over to Duncan's side, not wanting to interrupt, and handed the slip of parchment to him. She was surprised to hear heated bickering between the King and Loghain.

"I must repeat my protest to your fool notion that we need the Orlesians to defend ourselves," Loghain proclaimed as he paced back and forth.

"It's not a 'fool's notion.' Our arguments with the Orlesians are a thing of the past... and you will remember who is King," Cailan said as he glowered at Loghain.

"How fortunate Maric did not live to see his son ready to hand Ferelden over to those who enslaved us for a century," Loghain grumbled at he massaged his temple in frustration.

"Then our current forces will have to suffice, won't they?" Cailan sighed. He turned around and asked "Duncan, are your men ready for battle?"

"They are, your Majesty," replied Duncan with a nod.

Cailan noticed Kaetryn then, and gave her a quick nod. "And this is the new recruit I met earlier by the gates?" he asked. Kaetryn blushed and looked away; she had been hoping that Cailan would have forgotten her by now. Cailan smiled, seeming to forgive her for her misdeed. "Every Grey Warden is needed now. I am honoured fight along side your ranks," he said warmly.

Loghain scoffed and slammed his fist down on the table. "You risk too much, Cailan. The Darkspawn Horde is too dangerous for you to be playing hero on the front lines. Your fascination with glory and legends will be your undoing. We must attend to reality." Kaetryn looked up at Loghain, surprised by his disregard for the King's elevated status, but finding it hard to disagree with his logic.

Cailan sighed childishly and waved away Loghain's concerns. "Fine, speak your strategy." He leaned over the map spread out over the table and pushed his hair off of his face. "The Grey Wardens and I draw the Darkspawn into charging our lines, and then...?"

"You alert the tower to light the beacon, signalling my men to attack from cover-" Loghain said as he pointed at the map.

"To flank the Darkspawn, I remember," Cailan interjected. "This is the Tower of Ishal in the ruins, yes? Who shall light this beacon?"

Loghain straightened and looked over at the peak of the tower. "I have a few men stationed there. It's not a dangerous task, but it _is_ vital."

Cailan smiled from ear to ear. "Then we should send our best. Send Alistair and this mage woman to make sure it's done," he said triumphantly.

Kaetryn gaped at Cailan, and waited for Duncan to protest. He simply gazed at her with forlorn eyes.

"You rely on these 'Grey Wardens' too much," Loghain snapped. "Is that truly wise?"

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Cailan turned away from Loghain and crossed his arms. "Enough of your conspiracy theories, Loghain. Grey Wardens battle the Blight, no matter where they're from."

"Your Majesty, you should consider the possibility of the Archdemon appearing," Duncan interjected calmly.

Loghain waved his hand. "There have been no signs of any dragons in the Wilds," he said dismissively.

"Isn't that what your men are here for, Duncan?" laughed Cailan, a twinkle of excitement in his eye.

"I... Yes, your Majesty," Duncan sighed. The Senior Enchanter piped up, and Duncan turned to Kaetryn and whispered closely to her ear "Go collect Alistair and meet me at the centre of our camp. Move quickly." She nodded, and slipped away as the Revered Mother harped on at the Senior Enchanter for thinking that he might actually be of some use.

Kaetryn leaned back in her chair, swallowing and breathing deeply after recounting what she remembered of Ostagar. The Council all listened intently, shooting each other knowing glances from time to time. Teris was still jotting down notes on various pages of vellum, looking up at her to nod in encouragement every so often. After a few more minutes, he finally spoke. "So you and Alistair managed to reach the top of the tower, and lit the beacon. What happened after that?"

Kaetryn closed her eyes, and soughed in concentration. "It's a bit fuzzy, I'm afraid. A section of the floor had collapsed on the lower level, and Darkspawn were pouring into the tower in great numbers. We had to fight our way to the top, and after we lit the beacon, a large wave of them funnelled in, blocking the exit. I was hit by some stray arrows, and went down, though Alistair was still fighting when I blacked out."

The Council went silent. The rustle of vellum and the scratching of quills ceased as they all stared at her in confusion. "So... how did you and Alistair manage to escape into the Wilds?" Teris asked.

"As I mentioned ser, I passed out. I can only tell you what was told to me, though I scarcely believe it to be the truth myself," sighed Kaetryn, preparing for an onslaught of disbelief and more questions. "When I awoke, I was lying in a bed inside the hut of the old woman I mentioned meeting the day Alistair and I took the new recruits into the Wilds. The arrows had been removed and my wounds were completely healed. Alistair was there as well, already awake and waiting outside. When I asked the old woman's daughter how I had ended up there, she told me that her mother has turned into a giant bird and plucked us from atop the tower, one in each talon." Kaetryn looked at her hands, unwilling to face the stares of disbelief. It was almost a minute before the scribbling of ink on vellum started up again.

"So this woman and her daughter, they were mages then? What were their names again?" asked Hadrel, speaking for the first time with a light, airy voice.

"Yes, ser, they were. She later told me her name was Flemeth, and her daughter was called Morrigan," she said meekly, aware of how ridiculous she sounded.

Hadrel's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "Flemeth? As in the Witch of the Wilds from the children's fairytale?"

"She said that 'Flemeth' was what the Chasind folk called her, and it was the only name she gave me," was Kaetryn's reply.

Teris and Hadrel glanced at one another in astonishment, but Teris nodded and Hadrel resumed logging Kaetryn's account on paper.

The sun rested heavily on the barren fields in the horizon, casting a deep orange glow throughout the Aerie, which was amplified by the red embers that filled the brazier in the middle of the room. A man with faded blonde hair leaned forward in his chair, scrutinizing Kaetryn thoroughly. She noticed him, and waited for him to call her a liar, a storyteller, or accuse her of hiding something, but he remained silent for the longest time. Kaetryn didn't know what else to say; Flemeth and Morrigan had certainly kept secrets from her, telling her lies and omitting the truth on many occasions, but she never doubted what they had told her about Ostagar. Both Flemeth and Morrigan had always had plans of their own, and when they lied, it was always as a means to an end. Falsifying the events of the Battle of Ostagar would serve no purpose, at least none that Kaetryn could see, and whatever Morrigan's plan had been, it was not one that involved causing the destruction of the Grey Wardens. Kaetryn hadn't been able to gather any more information on how she and Alistair ended up in the Wilds, and so she had no choice but to believe what Morrigan had claimed. Smiling, she remembered something that Flemeth had told her in the Wilds the day they met: "You are required to do nothing, least of all believe. Shut one's eyes tight, or open one's arms wide-either way, one's a fool." Kaetryn had dismissed her as a mad old woman, but Flemeth's words had stuck with her after all this time. "Wisdom comes in many forms, it seems," she thought to herself.

Finally the man leaned back in his chair and grunted. "Loghain's plan should have worked," he declared definitively. The rest of the men paused, and nodded in agreement before turning to Kaetryn for a response, but she just shook her head, anger and sorrow filling her face.

"Perhaps... had he not called a full retreat as soon as he saw the signal," she barked angrily. Tears welled up in her eyes suddenly, and she hid her face from the men, not wanting to reveal herself as the little girl she felt she was at that moment. "I only hope that Duncan lived to see the flames atop the tower. I pray that he knew that we had not failed him, before he..." she trailed off, wiping away the tears. Steeling herself, she continued "Loghain ordered his men to retreat, and marched straight to Denerim instead of charging the line." She exhaled sharply and clenched her jaw. "Not that it would have necessarily been enough. The Darkspawn must have been tunnelling for weeks, because when they collapsed the floor of the Tower of Ishal, they flooded out with such great numbers that the King's army was completely overrun from behind their defensive line. Ostagar was... a disaster," she finished grimly, wiping away one last stray tear.

The Council was silent, deep in thought. Finally Hadrel looked up at Kaetryn and smiled. "It could not have happened any other way, lass. The important thing is that you lived, and you went on to correct the mistakes made that night. Ferelden is safe and the Blight was quelled; you couldn't have done a better job honouring Duncan's memory than that." Kaetryn just nodded and smiled appreciatively at Hadrel, having nothing else to add.

Only the incessant sound of scribbling filled the Aerie until Teris yawned and straightened his back. "It's getting quite late isn't it?" he asked aloud, and was answered by various grunts of agreement. "We shall reconvene tomorrow at midday. Until then I shall see most of you at supper. The rest of you I bid a good night." He got up out of his chair and stretched. Kaetryn did the same, and only then realised how stiff her legs had become from the hours of sitting. The red-headed Dwarf, who had been snoozing throughout the entire meeting, was the first to reach the door He unlatched the lock and threw the door open, eager to return to his ale. Kaetryn herself was yearning to return to her bed. She didn't feel hungry, but drained and listless, so she would not be visiting with Maralyn tonight.

Silently, she followed the men down the long, winding stairs, wishing them a farewell as they exited through side doors that led to their bedrooms and studies, until at last she reached the bottom of the tower alone. Kaetryn slipped through Weisshaupt unnoticed, and locked herself in her room, trying to shut her remorse off from the rest of the world.


	5. Chapter 4

The clashing of foible against forte, the wet, muted crunch of pommel meeting ribs in a heated tussle-these were as ubiquitous on the training field as broken bones and cries of hard-won victories. Nestled between the North and East Tower of Weisshaupt, protected in part from the harsh Anderfels wind, was a large arena lined with soft loam and walled off from the rest of the city. It was there that the Grey Wardens could hone their fighting skills, keeping themselves hardened and battle-ready should another Blight begin. On the Western side of the field, many circular areas were sectioned off for sword duelling and hand-to-hand combat practice, while the rest of the flat expanse was left open with various mounds of dirt painted to look like targets scattered about and aligned towards the East end of the field, for archery and magic practice.

With one graceful sweep of his arm, Tab pulled an arrow from his quiver and nocked it onto his longbow. He exhaled sharply, steadying his whole body before drawing the bowstring back until it vibrated with tension. Raising his bow high, he loosed the arrow with a determined shout, and sent it whistling through the air, the white and grey fletches marking its path across the sky. It landed with a thud a few hundred yards away, right in the centre of the bull's eye. "Ha ah! Yes! I told you I could hit any bloody target in this place!" Tab sniggered gleefully.

Oeric squinted at the target in disbelief, before following the arrow's path along the ground back to where Tab was standing. "Are you sure you're not some kind of mage, knife ears?" he asked brazenly, inciting a riot of snickers from the Alric who was restringing his bow, and an aging, Dwarven woman named Selda who was practicing dry firing to Tab's left.

Tab leered at the derogatory remark, but grinned as he outstretched his palm. "Now now, don't go all sour on me. I didn't force you to bet against me, in fact I remember warning you against wagering your entire purse against the bowmanship of a 'knife ears' such as myself!" he sneered with a smile on his face

Oeryn frowned as he chucked a small leather pouch at Tab, who snatched it out of the air. "Forty silver. Don't spend it all on some wench now," Oeryn glowered.

"It's my money, Human," shrugged Tab. "I'll spend it where I like." As an afterthought, he added "Besides, it's Wednesday, is it not? I hear your sister only works the taps on Fridays."

Alric slapped his knee and slung his shortbow over his shoulder as he stood up. "I'm afraid he's got you there, my friend," he laughed as he grabbed Oeryn by the shoulder. Oeryn glared at Tab but turned away as he spit on the ground in contempt.

From behind him, Tab felt a deft hand remove an arrow from his quiver. He turned and saw Selda scrutinizing it for length and weight. After turning it over many times, she nocked it and released it with great effort, struggling to add distance to her throw. The arrow soared through the air and pierced the same target as Tab's arrow had, but in the target's outer-most ring. Tab grinned smugly as Selda turned back to face him. "Not bad, Tab. You've got some skill, that's for sure," she said with a nod.

"Now where did an old Dwarf like you learn to fire a bow like that? Didn't think they had much use for ranged weapons down in those dark, claustrophobic caves of yours," Tab remarked snidely.

"I was born Merchant Caste, a surface-dweller. I'm fairly certain I've told you that, Tab," Selda snapped.

"Oh right! Of course. You're certainly the finest Dwarven archer I've ever had the pleasure of besting," Tab said as he ran his hand over the length of his bow, tracing the Elvish carvings of tree branches and birds in flight with his finger tips. "Most other Dwarves don't even have long enough arms to fully draw their bow, let alone hit any sort of target!" he laughed.

Selda crossed her arms and shot Tab a black look. She opened her mouth to retort, but grinned instead. "Hey Oeryn! I guess I owe you sixty silver and round of drinks tonight!" she hollered. Oeryn and Alric in burst out laughing while Tab just gawked in confusion, not seeing the humour in Selda's words. Noticing the baffled look on his face, Selda shrugged. "See, he bet against me earlier this morning. He said you were recruited for your skill with a bow. I bet that it was your winning personality that got Nessan's attention." Selda chirped, garnering more unruly laughter from Oeryn. "Now I can see that it is clearly your skill that stops Nessan from throwing you out on your arse!"

Tab ground his teeth bitterly. If there was one thing he despised, it was being teased. In an attempt to save face, he interrupted their banter with a sly grin. "Well it seems the Warden's recruit solely on the basis of personality these days! Don't suppose any of you have had the pleasure of running into the new Warden-Commander from Fereldan?"

The question silenced their snickers. Alric took a step forward and said "You mean the mage woman?"

"Do you think the rumours are true?" Oeryn asked. "How could one Warden defeat a Blight? It's never been done with less than three-hundred Wardens and every able-bodied soldier in Thedas fighting by their side."

"She must be one sodding good strategist," Selda added thoughtfully.

"'One sodding terrifying harpy,' is more like it," Tab interjected. "I bet she screeched at the Archdemon for so long that it just keeled over and died on the spot!"

All three stared at Tab skeptically. "You've met her? Are we supposed to believe she would waste her time having a conversation with the likes of you, Tab?" asked Alric.

"Believe what you want," Tab replied with a shrug. "Her room is five doors down from mine. It's hard for me not to cross paths with her, and even harder to avoid inciting her into a rage."

Alric shot Selda a skeptical look as they huddled closer to Tab. Oeryn kept his distance. "What do you mean? What happened?" asked Selda excitedly.

Tab brightened from being the centre of attention, and leaned in close. "It was just two nights ago; I was seeing off this lovely Orlesian flower who had been gracious enough to keep my bed warm in the wee hours of the morning, when the Warden-Commander came blustering down the hallway threatening to zap me if I didn't keep my voice down."

"Oh I'm sure that's exactly how it happened," Selda scoffed as she rolled her eyes.

"Well I may have left out the part about my voice not being the _only_ noise intruding on the Commander's sleep that night," Tab ribbed, sticking his tongue out as he smiled playfully. Alric guffawed and gave Tab a hearty slap on the back. "I think she was just jealous really. She didn't even give me time to explain that I would've been more than happy to oblige her every desire had she not almost set me on fire, the poor thing."

"Poor thing for being assigned a room next to yours!" Selda jeered. "Honestly they should make you sleep in the root cellar or something; far from those of us who aren't deaf."

"You know... that's not a bad idea!" Tab laughed as he snapped his fingers. "That might make it easier to convince all the pretty Dwarven girls to pay me a visit. Might remind them of home."

Selda delivered a swift jab into Tab's thigh and he collapsed in exaggerated agony. Alric continued snorting in laughter as Selda grabbed a few more of Tab's arrows and resumed practicing her shot. "Hey! Those are expensive!" Tab whined from his spot on the ground.

"And now you have coin to replace them," Selda replied curtly.

Oeryn scoffed and turned away bitterly. "Blighted knife ears," he hissed under his breath. It was then that he noticed Colin approaching from the swordplay area. He was garbed in thick leather padding and had a long, two-handed sword strapped to his back. Oeryn outstretched his arm when Colin drew near. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me!" he laughed.

"Ha. Never!" said Colin has he grasped Oeryn's arm in greeting. "It's been too long since I've had the chance to test my skills against a swift little bastard such as yourself," he said with a grin.

"Well I'll try to go easy on you," Oeryn chuckled. "Just let me get my blades and I'll meet you over there.

Colin nodded as Oeryn walked over to his pack beside Alric who was adjusting his bowstring again. The North Tower of Weisshaupt loomed overhead, and it caught Colin's attention as the white stone gleamed in the sunlight. He gazed up at the Aerie and thought of Kaetryn, wondering if she was up there with the Council. With a sigh of frustration, he shook his head and began walking towards the nearest fenced-off ring, slinging his sheathed sword over his shoulders. He'd been thinking about her a lot lately, with little clue as to why. There were many questions he wanted to ask her, about the Archdemon and about her travels through Ferelden, as well as her life prior to becoming a Warden, but he was sure she would be leaving as soon as her business here at Weisshaupt was finished. That fact saddened him; it was rare to find a woman that held his interest so completely with such little effort.

Kaetryn huffed as she bolted up the winding stairs that lead to the Aerie. No servant had been sent to fetch her, and she had gotten lost trying to retrace her steps from the previous day. She figured she was at least half an hour late, and she had forgotten to bring the scroll proving that she had been summoned, so the guard at the tower's entrance had delayed her a further fifteen minutes until someone had retrieved the record of her appointment. When she reached the top she ran for the door, forgetting it was locked. With a painful thud, she rammed into the door with the full weight of her body. Rubbing her nose and cursing the Maker, she straightened her mussed hair and robes, and then gently knocked on the door. An Elf opened the door slowly smiling. "Forgot it was locked..." Kaetryn blushed.

"We've all done it at least once, my lady," laughed the Elf, whom she remembered was called Falnrel.

Kaetryn blushed again and hustled into the room, taking her seat quickly. The Council was just as it was the day before, engrossed in various scrolls and leafs of paper or snoozing quietly in their seats. After she had settled into her chair, Teris looked up from the mountain of paperwork in front of him and spoke.

"Punctuality isn't a strength of yours, is it?" he frowned.

"I-uh... I apologize, ser. I got a bit lost and I forgot to bring my-"

Teris raised his hand and silenced her. "It's alright. Let's just get started," he said brusquely with pursed lips. Kaetryn clamped her mouth shut and looked down. "When we left off yesterday, you and Alistair had escaped Ostagar through... unusual means. I want to discuss what took place after that. I have here with me some reports that were sent from Orlais but they seem to mostly consist of speculation and hearsay. I understand you united the people of Ferelden, but beyond that the details seem to be contradictory or a little fantastical. I'd like you to recount to me what happened after you left the Wilds," Teris said as he folded his hands in his lap.

Kaetryn nodded and chewed her lip in contemplation. Collapsing in the midst of a battle and waking up in a quaint little hovel a few miles away had been quite a shock, but being informed that she was one of two surviving Grey Wardens in all of Ferelden had been too much to process at the time, and the implications of such a fact had taken weeks to fully dawn on her. When she emerged out of Flemeth's hut, rubbing her sides, which were still a bit tender from her arrow wounds, she saw Alistair standing on the shore of the surrounding swamps. As she approached him, she could see that he was completely distraught, shifting back and forth from angry tears and dejected, empty gazes. Kaetryn could understand why he was so upset; Alistair had no family, and Duncan had been like a father to him since he had been recruited. Flemeth spotted Kaetryn watching them from the doorway and grabbed Alistair's arm, snapping him out of his hysterics.

"See? Here is your fellow Grey Warden!" she said with exasperation. "You worry too much, young man."

Alistair turned to see her and rushed to her side. "You..." he choked. "You're alive. I... I thought you were dead for sure."

Kaetryn saw the fear and sadness in his eyes and looked away, unsure of how to respond. "Oh it takes more than a few Darkspawn to kill me!" she laughed nervously.

Alistair smiled briefly, but the knowledge of Duncan's demise welled up in his eyes, as did a fresh batch of tears. "Oh this doesn't seem real," he sighed. "If it weren't for Morrigan's mother, we'd be dead on top of that tower."

"Do not talk about me as if I am not present, lad," Flemeth barked.

"I.. I didn't mean..." stammered Alistair. "But.., but what do we call you? You never told us your name."

"Names are pretty, but useless," she replied with a wave of her hand. "The Chasind folk call me Flemeth. I suppose that'll do."

"_The_ Flemeth? From the legends?" Alistair gawked. "Daveth was right... You're the Witch of the Wilds, aren't you?"

Flemeth scowled and crossed her arms. "And what does that mean? I know a bit of magic and it has served you both well, has it not?"

"If you're truly Flemeth, you must be very old and powerful," said Kaetryn skeptically.

"Must I?" Flemeth laughed. "Age and power are relative; it depends on who is asking. Compared to you young lady, yes-on both counts."

"Then why didn't you save Duncan? He is... he _was_ our leader," Alistair interjected mournfully.

Flemeth frowned and placed her hand on Alistair's shoulder. "I am sorry for your Duncan, but your grief must come later; 'In the shadows before you take vengeance,' as my mother once said. Duty must come now." She turned to Kaetryn and stared at her, and Kaetryn felt as if she was appealing directly to her soul. "It has always been the Grey Warden's duty to unite the lands against the Blight, or did that change when I wasn't looking?"

For a moment, Kaetryn didn't know what to say. Remembering what Morrigan had told her when she awoke about Loghain's sudden retreat during the battle made her grind her teeth in anger. "The land hardly seems united behind our cause, thanks to Loghain," she growled.

"It doesn't make any sense!" cried Alistair. "Why would he do it?"

"Now _that_ is a good question," said Flemeth. She turned and gazed off into the Wilds and frowned. "Men's hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature. Perhaps he believes the Blight is an army he can outmanoeuvre. Perhaps he does not see that the evil behind it is the true threat."

"The Archdemon," Alistair murmured.

Kaetryn paced back and forth, pinching the bridge of her nose and trying to come up with a course of action. "We should try to contact the rest of the Grey Wardens," she said thoughtfully.

"Cailan already summoned them," replied Alistair. "They'll come if they can... but I expect Loghain has already taken steps to stop them. We must assume that they won't arrive in time," he finished with growing dread.

Throwing her arms up in defeat, Kaetryn turned to where Flemeth was standing. "Will you help us do something about this Blight, Flemeth?"

"Me?" Flemeth asked sarcastically. "I am just an old woman who lives in the Wilds. I know nothing of Blights and Darkspawn."

"Well whatever Loghain's insanity, he obviously thinks the Darkspawn are a minor threat," grumbled Alistair as he turned to Kaetryn. "We must warn everyone this isn't the case."

"Ha! And who will believe you? Unless you think to convince this _Loghain_ of his mistake," scoffed Flemeth.

Alistair stomped his foot in anger. "He just betrayed his own King! If Arl Eamon had been at Ostagar, he would be the first to call for his execution!"

"You think an Arl would believe us over the Teryn? A decorated war hero and Ferelden's liberator?" Kaetryn asked bitterly.

With a sigh, Alistair dropped his gaze to a toadstool growing near his foot. "I suppose... maybe?"

"So...Is it just up to you and me to kill this 'Archdemon,'" Kaetryn asked after a long pause in a surprised daze.

"By ourselves?" asked Alistair incredulously. "No Grey Warden has ever defeated a Blight without the armies of a half-dozen nations at his back! Not to mention... I don't even know how!"

"How to kill the Archdemon, or how to raise an army? It seems to me those are two different questions, hm?" Flemeth chuckled. "Have the Wardens no allies these days?"

"I... I don't..." stuttered Alistair angrily. "I don't know! Arl Eamon would never stand for this, surely."

"What does it even matter what this 'Arl Eamon' thinks?" Kaetryn snapped in frustration.

"It matters because Arl Eamon wasn't at Ostagar; he still has all his men," Alistair snapped back. "And he was Cailan's uncle!" He exhaled sharply to calm himself. "I know him. He's a good man and well respected at the Landsmeet." After a moment, the brightness returned to Alistair's eyes as he exclaimed "Of course! We could go to Redcliffe and appeal to him for help!"

Kaetryn stared at him like he had sprouted antlers and began to dance the Remigold, but his words ignited a tiny spark of an idea in her head, and suddenly it dawned on her. "What about the treaties that Flemeth gave us? They're still in my pack! Duncan asked me to hang on to them until after the battle!" she breathed excitedly.

"See? There's a smart lass," Flemeth said with a smile.

"Of course! The Old Treaties!" cried Alistair. "Grey Wardens can demand aid from Dwarves, Elves, mages and other places-they're obligated to help us during a Blight!"

Flemeth giggled delightedly as she uncrossed her arms and placed on hand on each of their shoulders. "I may be old, but Dwarves, Elves, mages, this Arl Eamon and who knows what else; this sounds like an army to me."

Alistair shrugged Flemeth's hand off and grabbed Kaetryn by the elbows. He pulled her close and stared directly into her eyes pleadingly. "So can we do this? Can we go to Redcliffe and these other places and... build an army?"

Looking into his eyes, Kaetryn saw sorrow illuminated by foolish hope. She wanted to smack him across the face and wake him up from this fantasy. Two people could not defeat a Blight on their own, and no one in all of Ferelden would heed the words of an Apostate and an ex-Templar. How could the two of them even enforce the obligations set forth by the Old Treaties? More than likely they'd just get laughed at and then kicked out of town if they showed up on some noble's doorstep demanding resources and soldiers. But Alistair's glossy hazel eyes and tear-stained cheeks made her sigh in resignation. "I doubt it will be as easy as all that, Alistair," she said as she ripped her eyes from Alistair's foolhardy stare.

Before Alistair could say anything, Flemeth burst forth into laughter. "Hahaha! And when is it ever?" she chuckled with a twinkle of mischief in her eyes.

Ignoring her, Alistair got down on his knees in front of Kaetryn to meet her fallen gaze, but did not relinquish her arms. "You heard what she said. It has always been the Grey Warden's duty to stand against the Blight, and right now, _we're_ the Grey Wardens." Kaetryn just looked at him, not really knowing what to say. She felt like he was asking her to grow a pair of wings and fly him to the moon, or bend the will of the Maker Himself. After a moment of silence, Alistair closed his eyes and dropped his eyes to the ground, releasing his grip from her elbows as he did. "Can we do this... for Duncan?" he whispered as his voice cracked with grief. When he looked back up at her, his eyes were full of teardrops and heartbreak.

Whatever her quarrel with Alistair had been, whatever trespasses his presence made against her, she couldn't say no. She looked at him, and knew she had no choice. Alistair could flee Ferelden and live a happy life until the Darkspawn were upon him once again, but she had no where to go. She could return to the Brecilian forest but the Darkspawn were already swarming that area, and there was no place for an Apostate mage in any town or village in all of Thedas. She could die running as an Apostate, or she could die fighting as a Warden; the choice was obvious but hard to accept. With stinging, hot tears boiling up into her eyes, she nodded once, and glared down at Alistair with resentment. "Alright. Let's try," she whispered. The look of admiration and gratitude that lit up Alistair's face was enough to completely knock the wind out of her.

"So you are set, then?" Flemeth asked without skipping a beat. "Ready to be Grey Wardens?"

"As ready as we'll ever be," Kaetryn croaked, utterly defeated.

"Excellent!" Flemeth said as she clapped her hands. "Now, before you go, there is yet one more thing I can offer you."

Morrigan appeared from inside the hut and strode quickly over to Flemeth's side. "The stew is bubbling, mother dear," she said curtly, shooting an irritated glance at the emotional duo interrupting her supper. "Shall we have two guests for the eve, or none?"

"The Grey Wardens are leaving shortly girl, and you will be joining them," Flemeth said with a hint of devilry in her voice.

"Such a shame-what‽" Morrigan cried indignantly. Alistair and Kaetryn were just as flabbergasted.

"You heard me girl! The last time I looked, you had ears, haha!" Flemeth giggled.

Morrigan's shocked expression degraded into dread and outrage. "Have I no say in this?" she shrieked.

"You have been itching to get out of the Wilds for years; here is your chance," Flemeth snapped as she turned to face the speechless couple. "As for you Wardens, consider this repayment for your lives."

Alistair stuttered, struggling to find a response but Kaetryn was immediately suspicious. "Wait a minute... repayment? What's in it for you?" she asked as she searched Flemeth for any sign of malignant intentions. "Was this your idea all along?"

"Pardon me, but I had the impression that the two of you needed assistance, whatever the form," Flemeth replied slyly.

Alistair finally piped up and stepped forward. "Not to... look a gift horse in the mouth but won't this add to our problems? Outside of the Wilds she's an Apostate."

"Alistair!" Kaetryn snapped incredulously. "You insult the very people who saved your life!"

"I didn't mean it like that!" Alistair whined defensively. "I just meant that aside from dodging the Darkspawn horde, we'll have to avoid the attention of the Chantry and Templars and any Andrastian who can wield a weapon! Sounds like more of a headache that it's worth to me."

"I think we'll be doing a lot of that anyway. I'm an _Apostate_ too, remember?" Kaetryn growled.

"Well I mean... you're a Grey Warden now," Alistair muttered. "I don't think the Chantry is allowed to interfere with our duty, but she isn't one of us..."

"I wasn't aware that drinking Darkspawn blood was a voucher for freedom and a ward against discrimination. Duncan left that part out of his welcoming speech," Kaetryn sighed, clearly vexed. The mention of Duncan's name made Alistair flinch.

Flemeth rolled her eyes and cut them both off. "If you do not wish help from us illegal mages, young man, perhaps I should have left you on that tower."

"Point taken," Alistair murmured, his voice sounding stricken.

"Mother!" Morrigan exclaimed. "This... this is not how I wanted this! I'm not even ready!"

Flemeth smiled warmly and placed her hand on Morrigan's cheek. "You must be ready. Alone, these two must unite Ferelden against the Darkspawn. They need you Morrigan. Without you, they will surely fail and all will perish under the Blight-even I."

Frustration laced with fear filled Morrigan's face. "I... understand," she whispered, downcast.

"And you Wardens, do you understand?" Flemeth asked imperiously. "I give you that which I value above all in this world. I do this because you _must_ succeed."

"I understand," Kaetryn and Alistair said in unison.

Morrigan rolled her eyes begrudgingly before stomping towards the hut. "Allow me to get my things, if you please!" When she returned, she had a large leather satchel slung over her shoulders and Kaetryn's pack, which had been left inside. Morrigan dropped it at Kaetryn's feet with a resentful glare. "I am at your disposal, Grey Wardens," she said blankly, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. "I suggest a village North of Wilds as our first destination. 'Tis not far, and you'll find much you need there." After she saw the wary look on Alistair's face, she continued "Or if you prefer, I shall simply be your silent guide. The choice is yours."

Trying to ease some of the hostility, Kaetryn raised her hands defensively. "Uh... I think it would be best if you spoke your mind."

Flemeth's laughter filled the air. "Haha! You will regret saying that!"

"Dear, sweet mother! You are _so_ kind to cast me out like this!" Morrigan seethed. "How fondly I shall remember this moment!"

"Well I always said 'If you want something done, do it yourself, or hear about it for a decade or two afterwards," Flemeth giggled.

Alistair leaned close to Kaetryn as Morrigan continued to bicker with her mother. "I just..." he whispered. "Do you really want to take her along because her mother says so?"

"Not really, no. But what choice do we have? We owe them both our lives," Kaetryn hissed back. Noticing that Morrigan was scrutinizing them as they whispered back and forth, she turned to Morrigan and said "I have some questions before we leave, if you don't mind." Kaetryn picked up her pack from the ground and hooked her staff into the loop on the back of it so she wouldn't have to carry it in her hands.

"I _may_ have answers. Ask," Morrigan snapped as she waved her hand dismissively.

"Alistair is probably right-the Templars will no doubt try and apprehend us. I spent most of my time in the Brecilian forest, and away from major cities. Have you ever been outside of the Wilds?" asked Kaetryn.

"From time to time," Morrigan sighed. "I have been to the village I mentioned, watched its people and pondered what curious beings they are. On occasion, I purchased goods from the village merchants, and 'twas there I spoke with men a little; there they stared and knew me as an outsider. Mother wishes for me to expand the horizon of my experience beyond the Wilds, for even she was not born here."

Kaetryn nodded solemnly. She peeked over at Flemeth, who was humming and plucking at some plants growing in the damp peat at the far side of the clearing. "Is that what you want, Morrigan?"

Morrigan scoffed. "What I want is to see mountains; I wish to witness the ocean and step into its waters. I want to experience a city, rather than see it in my mind." She sighed, and her face softened a bit. "So... yes. This is what I want. Actually leaving is harder than I thought, however. Perhaps Mother is right; it must simply be done quickly."

Kaetryn nodded, understanding full well how difficult it can be to leave the wilderness of one's childhood. "What can you tell me about this village to the North?" Alistair's ear perked and he abandoned watching Flemeth in favour of listening in to their conversation.

"'Tis a small place of little consequence called 'Lothering,'" shrugged Morrigan. "It's no more than a stop along your Imperial Highway, where travellers purchase goods from local farms and smiths. I would go more often were it not for the town's Chantry. It makes the village particularly intolerant and unpleasant to strangers such as you and me."

"A Chantry?" Alistair interjected. "And they never, in all this time, thought that maybe you were a Witch?"

"Of course they did!" Morrigan replied sarcastically with a grin. "They even called out their Templars once-they found nothing."

Ignoring Alistair's insistence on being rude, Kaetryn continued her interrogation. "What sort of skills do you have, exactly?" she asked eagerly, intending on knowing the types of magic that Morrigan was capable of imparting on her.

"I know a few spells, though I am no where near as powerful as Mother," Morrigan smiled. "I have also studied history, your Grey Warden treaties in particular."

Kaetryn was about to mention how she thought Morrigan would prove to be a useful ally when Alistair interrupted again. "Can you cook?" he asked cheekily.

"I... can cook, yes," glared Morrigan with indignation.

Hearing the umbrage in Morrigan's voice, Kaetryn pushed Alistair slightly and laughed nervously. "Never mind him. You don't have to cook."

Winking at Morrigan in jest, Alistair shrugged as he strode over to his pack that was leaning up against a tree. "You missed your chance, Kae. It's charred rabbit from here on out."

"Just ignore him," Kaetryn sighed to Morrigan. "How are we going to get past the Darkspawn? Do you have a plan?"

"Good point, we're going to need a plan. We can sense the Darkspawn-conversely they can sense us. Sneaking around them will be difficult," Alistair put forth.

"That's not reassuring," Kaetryn frowned at him.

"Well we should be able to sneak past smaller groups, but larger ones, or particularly intelligent Darkspawn will always be able to detect us," said Alistair.

"Mother has given them something that will distract them as we pass by, so we should be fine. 'Tis important that we head out of the Wilds however, not farther in," said Morrigan.

"So the Darkspawn are still camped within the forest, then?" Kaetryn asked, the weight of their current situation finally starting to sink in.

"Have you been taught nothing?" snapped Morrigan. "They come from underground, like an eruption. They broke through deep within the forest, and _that_ is where they will be most concentrated for now."

"Then we should get going, and soon," Kaetryn breathed, suddenly fearful of her surroundings.

Turning to face Flemeth who was suddenly at their side again, Morrigan chirped "Farewell, Mother! Do not forget the stew on the fire. I would hate to return to a burned down hut."

"Bah! 'Tis far more likely that you will return to see this entire area, along with my hut, swallowed up by the Blight!" grumbled Flemeth angrily.

Morrigan was taken aback by the harsh truth behind Flemeth's words. "I... all I meant was..." she stuttered.

"Yes I know," smiled Flemeth brightly. "Do try to have fun, dear!" The trio gathered their things and Flemeth ushered them out of the clearing quickly, unwilling to waste any more time on goodbyes.

Teris picked up his quill for the first time in a while, and scribbled Morrigan's name and description down on a scroll. "I was told you had gathered many companions on your travels, who were they and what were their names?" Teris asked as he halted Kaetryn's story telling.

"Hmm. Well the day after we managed to circumvent the horde and made it out of the Wilds, we encountered a Mabari war-hound fleeing a brood of Darkpawn along the Imperial Highway leading up to Lothering. He was injured, and he must have imprinted on me when I was bandaging him up, because he followed us from that day forth. I named him 'Dane,' after a fabled Ferelden hunter," Kaetryn explained.

"He said companions, lass, not pets," grunted the sleepy Dwarf who had remained silent up until now.

"Mabari are as cunning and as lethal as any warrior, ser," Kaetryn rebuked. "He was as much of a companion to me as any other I have travelled with, and he swallowed more Darkspawn blood than any Warden ever has. Ferelden reveres the Marbari for a reason."

Teris raised his hand. "Enough, I will record your Mabari as a companion, let's not waste any more time on trivial squabbles. Who else accompanied you?"

Kaetryn took a deep breath and calmed herself. "When we got to Lothering, we encountered a group of Loghain's soldiers. Someone fleeing Ostagar must have recognized us, because they had been looking to arrest us for our supposed betrayal of the King during the battle. Lothering was full of refugees from the South, so the Chantry had their priests working around the village, taking care of the sick and the injured. One of the lay sisters saw the soldier's attack us and jumped in to help. Her name was Leliana, and fortunately for us, she was a former Orlesian bard, and a very skilled archer. She claimed to have been sent a vision by the Maker, bidding her to accompany us. I was skeptical but... looking back I doubt we could have been successful without her," Kaetryn said with a reminiscent smile.

"Yes we have had reports of her," replied Teris, scanning more papers. "I must ask why did you not recruit her if she possessed such noteworthy skills."

"Uh..." Kaetryn trailed off, stunned by the question. "She left shortly after the siege on Denerim, summoned by the Chantry to oversee pilgrimages to the Urn of Sacred Ashes, the last I heard." Emboldened, she straightened her back. "I owed them all my life one way or another. Being a Warden is not a fate I would wish on any of them, and I would have never forced the issue. For the most part, we all went our separate ways."

"I see," was Teris' response, clearly unimpressed.

Kaetryn cleared her throat. "There was also a Qunari in Lothering, who had been caged and sentenced to death for the murder of some farmers. I never got his name, but he referred to himself as 'Sten of the Beresaad.' I convinced the Revered Mother to release him under my charge, and he accompanied us for quite some time. Eventually returned to Seheron just before Alistair was crowned King of Ferelden."

"What was a member of the Beresaad doing that far South?" Hadrel asked quizzically.

"Ha! Getting Sten to divulge information about the Qunari was an exercise in futility, but I did manage to find out that Sten and a small group of soldiers had been sent to Ferelden to investigate the Blight on behalf of someone called 'The Arishok.' He had been ambushed by the Darkspawn during his travels and was found by some farmers near Lake Calenhad. During the fight he had dropped his sword and some scavengers picked it up. Apparently the Qunari aren't allowed to live without their swords, so I helped him track it down. He thanked me and left for Seheron the next day."

Hadrel and Teris just nodded, and resumed writing. Kaetryn waited for more questions, but none were put forth. She cleared her throat again and resumed recounting her story. "We left Lothering fairly quickly because word from the South was the Horde was bearing down quickly. There were also rumours about a clan of Dalish Elves that were spotted setting up camp in the Brecilian forest to the East, so we decided to head there first. As unbelievable as this probably sounds, they were having some trouble with a group of werewolves that had been terrorizing their camp. In exchange for their aid, they asked that we exterminate the werewolves for them and bring them heart of their leader, Witherfang. It wasn't easy, but Alistair managed to slay the beast and the Dalish were quite appreciative."

"I have read that there was an Elf with a tattooed face that accompanied you. Was he a member of this Dalish clan?" Teris asked flatly.

"Zevran?" said Kaetryn, surprised that Teris already seemed to have all of the information he was seeking. "No. Zevran was a member of the Antivan Crows, a group of assassins hired by Arl Howe and Teryn Loghain to assassinate Alistair and I before we could cause an uprising. He intersected us on our way to Redcliffe and in exchange for sparing his life, he offered up his services to me to use against the Blight."

"That was a wise decision," Teris remarked.

"Yes," Kaetryn nodded with a grin. "He was quite skilled. Alistair didn't think we could trust him not to finish the job at a later date, but there was just something about him that made me think otherwise."

"So you were heading to Redcliffe to appeal to this Arl Eamon for further support, I presume?" Hadrel said.

"Yes, though Redcliffe had fallen on hard times. Loghain's usurpation of the thrown had cast Ferelden into civil war, and many of the banns did not support him-Bann Teagan being one of the most outspoken. Being Teagan's brother, and a well-respected man amongst the other nobles, Eamon became a target and Loghain hired a Blood Mage to poison him. The mage inadvertently loosed some demons from the Fade and the city was in ruins when we arrived. It was then that we tracked down the Urn of Sacred Ashes for it's healing properties, and managed to bring Eamon back from the brink of death. Though many had been lost during their attempts to reclaim Redcliffe from the demons, Eamon still had a large number of men under his command, and he pledged to help us defeat the Blight, provided we put a stop the civil war," Kaetryn explained as she stretched in her seat.

Teris examined Kaetryn for a time before leaning forward and knitting his fingers together under his chin. "So it was Eamon's idea to put Alistair on the thrown in place of Loghain. How had he come to learn of Alistair's royal blood? Was it common knowledge in Ferelden?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"No, not at all. Eamon had raised Alistair before he was sent to the Chantry at the behest of King Maric, and as far as I know, up until that point only Eamon and Alistair himself were aware of his lineage," said Kaetryn. She still remembered the day that Alistair had told her of his secret; it was not the only surprise he had given her that day. They had been travelling together for a little over a month as they neared the walls of Redcliffe, and he had asked to speak to her in private one night while they set up camp.

"Look, can we talk for a moment?" Alistair murmured quietly as Kaetryn laid out her bedroll.

"Well it would seem you're quite capable of talking to me-you're not having any problems doing it right now, are you?" Kaetryn chuckled as she gave him a wink.

"Haha, very funny," Alistair sighed. "I'm serious-it will only take a moment."

Kaetryn rolled her eyes and surveyed the rest of the encampment. "Alright, fine. What's the matter?"

Alistair gestured for her to follow him, and he scurried off a fair distance into a wooded clearing. Kaetryn grabbed her staff and snuck off after him, making sure that no one had noticed.

"I need to tell you something," he said with a hushed voice, scanning the surrounding bushes to be sure no one was listening. "I-um... should probably have told you this earlier."

Kaetryn's gawked at him, intrigued. "Uh-oh. I'm not going to like this, am I?" she asked.

Alistair took a step back and stared at his feet. "I don't know, I doubt it. I've never liked it, that's for sure." He fidgeted with his shirt for a moment before pawing at his nose nervously. "Ah well... let's see... How do I tell you this? We're almost at Redcliffe... did I say how I know Arl Eamon exactly?"

Kaetryn had grown much fonder of Alistair during their time together. Ironically, he was the one person she felt she could relate to, despite his Templar upbringing. They had both lost everyone dear to them, and were now charged with an impossible task that was plagued by setbacks and unexpected obstacles. It had been the two against the whole world, but the subject of their past lives had been a seldom-discussed topic, preferring instead to swap quips and argue over who had the higher number of Darkspawn kills. "Oh I hope this isn't something _sordid_!" she laughed sarcastically.

"Uh... no," he frowned. "Why would you think that?" After a quick pause he raised his hands to stop her "Wait! Don't answer that-just let me finish." She stared at him expectantly with her arms crossed, amused by his abrupt nervousness. He had been quiet all day, but Kaetryn had come to expect periods of morose silence from him ever since Duncan's death. After a moment he exploded, blurting everything out in one breath. "I'm a bastard! My mother was a serving girl at Redcliffe Castle and she died when I was born." He took a quick, flustered breath and then continued. "Arl Eamon took me in, and raised me before I was sent to the Chantry." Kaetryn continued to stare, surprised by his outburst, but otherwise underwhelmed by the sudden revelation. Alistair took another deep breath and calmed himself. "The reason he did that was, well... was because my father was King Maric... which made Cailan my half-brother, I suppose," he finished with a relieved sigh as his face burned bright red in embarrassment.

Kaetryn was caught completely off-guard and she just gaped at him, deadpan. After a tense moment of neither of them knowing how to react, Kaetryn erupted with giggles. "So... you're not just a bastard, but a royal bastard?"

Alistair snorted with laughter, grateful for the comic relief. "Ha! Yes, I suppose it does, at that! I should use that line more often!" They chortled for a while, and after they regained their composure, Alistair shuffled uncomfortably while Kaetryn scrutinized him under a new light.

"So..." she said giggled abruptly. "Should I start calling you 'Prince Alistair' now?"

"No! Maker's breath! Just hearing that gives me a heart attack" Alistair exclaimed disgustedly. He pondered for a moment before responding more seriously. "It's not true, anyhow... I'm the son of a commoner." Alistair shook his head vehemently. "I'm a bastard, and nobody even knows about me."

"I don't think that's important. What's important is that you're the last of the Theirin bloodline," Kaetryn replied. She continued to stare at him, feeling like she was looking at a completely different person. "Why didn't you tell me this sooner, Alistair?"

Sighing in frustration, Alistair covered his face with his hands. "I _would_ have told you but... it never really meant anything to me. I was inconvenient and a possible threat to Cailan's rule, and so they kept me secret-I've never talked about it to anyone. Everyone who did know either resented me for it or they coddled me. Even Duncan kept me out of the fighting because of it." He took a step closer to Kaetryn and looked deep into her eyes, causing her to wince and blush slightly. "I didn't want you to know for as long as possible. I'm sorry."

Shame and guilt radiated from him, and Kaetryn couldn't help but feel sympathy. What limited experience she had with the outside world had shown her how people's opinion about her changed once they discovered she was a mage, and she understood why Alistair would want to keep a secret like that hidden from everyone else. She put her hand on his arm and smiled at him warmly. "I think I understand," she said with a nod.

"Oh good! I'm glad," Alistair sighed as he wiped imaginary sweat off of his brow. "It's not like a got special treatment for it anyhow," he shrugged. "It was always made _very_ clear that the throne was not in my future-they didn't want me running around and starting rebellions or anything silly like that. Arl Eamon eventually married a young woman from Orlais, despite the problems it caused with the King because it was so soon after the war. He loved her a great deal, but the new Arlessa resented the rumour that pegged me as the Arl's bastard. They weren't true, but of course they existed. The Arl didn't care... but _she_ did. So off I was packed, to the nearest monastery at age ten. Just as well-the Arlessa made sure the castle wasn't a home to me by that point. She despised me."

"What an awful thing to do to a child," Kaetryn scoffed angrily.

"Maybe," smiled Alistair. "She felt threatened by my presence; I see that now, and I can't say I blame her. She must have wondered if the rumours were true herself, I bet," he laughed.

"So you were unwanted by your father, and you knew nothing of your mother?" Kaetryn asked, the similarities between both of their childhoods becoming more and more apparent to her.

Alistair scratched his chin as he thought for a moment. "I remember I had an amulet with Andraste's holy symbol on it; the only thing I had of my mother's. I was so furious at being sent away that I tore it off and threw it at the wall and it shattered. Stupid, stupid thing to do," he grimaced, sadness filling his face. "The Arl came by the monastery a few times to see how I was, but I was stubborn. I hated it there and blamed him for everything. Eventually he just stopped coming."

Kaetryn nodded. "You were just young. I probably would have acted the same way had I been sent away to the Circle of Magi."

He simply waved his hand and turned towards the glowing light of the fire back at camp. "My blood has never been important to me. I spent my whole life trying to forget about it and being told that I would never sit on the thrown-and that's fine by me!" He turned back to face Kaetryn and said firmly "No. If there's an heir to be found, it's Arl Eamon himself. He's not of royal blood but he is Cailan's uncle, and more importantly, very popular with the people. Though... if he's really as sick as we've heard... oh no. I don't want to think about that, I really don't."

They remained in quiet contemplation for a few moments as Alistair allowed her to soak in the new information. "So there you have it! Now can we move on? I'll just pretend that you still think I'm some nobody who was too lucky to die with the rest of the Grey Wardens," he winked.

"Ha!" she laughed, punching him playfully in the arm. "And what does that make me, hm?"

Alistair bent so that he met Kaetryn's eyes directly. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "The reason why I said I was lucky," he whispered with his signature, lop-sided grin. His hazel eyes smouldered longingly for the briefest moment, captivating her entirely before he turned and walked back towards their camp. Kaetryn watched him leave breathlessly before she leaped into the shadows, the darkness obscuring her flushed face. It was at that moment that she realised Alistair would always be more to her than just a fellow Grey Warden. She blushed just from the memory.

"Unfortunately Zevran followed us, thinking he'd get to see us... doing something a little more interesting," Kaetryn sighed. "I don't think the news could have spread faster if the town crier had gotten hold of it."

Teris nodded. "However you were lucky, as the last time a Warden tried to take the throne of Ferelden, we were exiled for over two-hundred years. It is good that Maric allowed our Order to return. Sophia Dryden brought disgrace to our name and destroyed whatever claim to neutrality we had." Teris crossed his arms and furrowed his brow. "When you were declared Arlessa of Amaranthine, we had hoped that you would prove to be far more effective, and less power hungry. We had hoped that word would spread throughout Ferelden, and eventually to other parts of Thedas. Perhaps the people would see the Wardens as an alternative to selfish nobles and self-serving politicians." He shrugged with a pleased smile on his face. "We have been watching Vigil's Keep closely and I must admit that I am impressed. You seem to have done a remarkable job restoring the Order to its former glory."

"You refer to the siege of Soldier's Peak? Sophia intervened because the people appealed to her for help. King Arland was a tyrant!" rebuked Kaetryn, before groaning in resignation. "Then I regret to inform you that my title has been formally stripped from me. The only reason the Chantry allowed such an "offence against the Maker" to continue was because the land had been confiscated from the Howes and was in need of new leadership. To their credit, they allowed me to stay Arlessa until the region had been stabilized, but the Chantry has strict laws against mages holding titles, as I'm sure you are aware, and the Grand Cleric insisted that I be replaced a few months later. It would be impossible for me to make any sort of political claim without inciting another Exalted March," she finished sarcastically.

"Perhaps that is for the best," Teris said flatly through pursed lips. "I will ensure that the next time we are presented with such an opportunity, the Chantry will have no cause to intervene. However, I still have account of three more companions that you have yet to name."

"Oh right. Well as I mentioned, Redcliffe was infested with demons. The Blood Mage who had been sent by Loghain, Jowan, was hired in secret by Arlessa Isolde to tutor her son, Conner in secret. He had revealed himself to be magically inclined, but Isolde did not want to lose him to the Circle. She was hoping that Jowan would be able to teach him just enough to conceal his abilities from other people. After it was discovered that Jowan had poisoned the Arl and he was thrown in jail, Conner stole his grimoire in hopes of finding a spell that would heal his father. Instead, he caught the attention of a demon from the Fade and it possessed him. However, since he allowed it to do so willingly, thinking it would help save Eamon, he did not become an Abomination, just a thrall. I knew I could save him, but I would need to enter the Fade and confront the demon directly if I was going to kill it and spare Conner, but I needed the aid of other mages, and a stone's weight in Lyrium," Kaetryn relayed to the Council.

"And where did you come upon such knowledge?" asked one of the Human mages skeptically.

"I was taught many things by my mentor," Kaetryn sighed. "He was once a senior enchanter for the Circle, so he was privy to a lot of rituals and arcane knowledge that the average hedge mage would have never even heard of before. He taught me everything he knew before I left him. I had been to the Fade many times in my youth, but never alone, and never without vast amounts of Lyrium to stabilize the flow of mana from our world to the Fade. Alistair begged me to do the ritual instead of just slaying Conner, but I didn't save him because Alistair asked it of me. I did it because I had a hard time understanding how Eamon would still be willing to help us defeat the Blight if we had also been the ones to slay his only son."

The Council nodded in unison. "So where did you come across the necessary resources for such a ritual?" asked Teris.

"Heh. Well it came down to two options. Use the skills of the Blood Mage, who was surprisingly willing to help, or we could travel to Kinloch Hold, the Circle Tower at Lake Calenhad. Since I didn't fancy angering the Chantry, I opted for the less _sinful_ option," she laughed sarcastically. "It was at the Circle Tower that I met Wynne. The Tower was also infested with demons. Uldred, a senior mage, was campaigning to the Circle on behalf of Loghain. My mentor taught me that not unlike the Wardens, the Circle of Magi is sworn to maintain political neutrality. I surmised that Loghain offered the Circle freedom from Chantry control if they sided with him in the civil war. The Circle ultimately refused, so Uldred resorted to Blood Magic to try and force their hand. Evidentially he bit off more than he could chew; the demon he summoned torn the Veil asunder and unleashed its brethren. Lake Calenhad is only a day's journey from Redcliffe, and by the time we had gotten there, the Templars had sealed it and were about to raze it to the ground, invoking the Rite of Annulment. I volunteered to go in and root out the demons, and that's when I found Wynne, inside the tower trying hold the demons at bay. Together, we destroyed Uldred and restored order to the Tower. First Enchanter Irving was extremely grateful and pledged to uphold the agreement the Circle made with the Wardens. Wynne asked for the privilege to accompany me and I agreed; she was a proficient Spirit Healer."

In truth, Kaetryn had been wary of Wynne joining their group. She was an old woman, and a Circle mage like Casturn had been, but she did not bear the same contempt for the tyranny the Chantry imposed upon the mages. Wynne had been at the Battle of Ostagar, one of the mages donated to the King's army. Kaetryn did not recall having spoken to her, but Wynne had recognized her, and while she did have a penchant for nagging and finger waving, Wynne also proved to possess great wisdom and understanding. Kaetryn came to revere her as the mother figure that she had always lacked, and Wynne nurtured Kaetryn's magical talent as well as offering her sagely advice. "Wynne stayed with us right up until the end. She departed for Tevinter shortly after Alistair's coronation, however." Eyeing the Council for a moment, she continued "Before you ask, I doubt a woman of her age could have survived the Joining, so I didn't ask her to become a Warden either." Kaetryn rolled eyes.

"Mmm..." Teris hummed. "Continue."

"Well since we prevented the Templars from having to invoke the Rite of Annulment, everyone involved was grateful," Kaetryn smiled. "Especially Knight-Commander Greagoir. As much as I'll never agree with a Templar on how to best govern those of us who would learn the arcane arts, I do believe that he cared about the fate of the mages he watched over. I could see that the last thing he wanted to was to end of the lives of innocent mages and destroy everything that he had dedicated his life to preserving. Irving agreed to aid us against the Blight, but I called in a personal favour with Greagoir, and asked that he allow a group of mages to accompany me back to Redcliffe, and that some of his Templars go with us to transport the Lyrium necessary for the ritual. Ha! It was actually quite fun travelling with those Templars. You should have been the looks on their faces when Greagoir told them that they would be under my command for the duration of the trip. Me-an Apostate marching a troop of Templars across Ferelden. I thought their heads were going to explode," she giggled with delight.

"You were in charge? Was is it not Alistair who was in command, being the senior recruit and all?" asked Hadrel, bewildered.

"Ah." Kaetryn nodded. She thought carefully about how to explain, choosing her words in a way that wouldn't make Alistair sound incompetent. He wasn't unable_;_ he just wasn't up to it. He didn't believe in his ability to lead and the fact that Duncan was no longer going to be there to guide him had psyched him out even further. "He deferred to me after Ostagar; he was unwilling to make the hard decisions."

"This being the current King of Ferelden?" Teris laughed.

Kaetryn's hackles went up immediately, and she clenched her teeth bitterly. "He was not the King then-he wasn't ready. That year changed him a lot-it changed both of us. He's a fine King, and I would follow his command to the ends of Thedas, without question," she hissed.

Teris raised his hand. "It was not my intent to offend," he said defensively. "Let us be grateful that one of you was willing to make the hard decisions, as you say."

Kaetryn reddened again, flustered. Truthfully, she hadn't been willing to make the decisions either. For the most part it had been only about choosing life over death, a decision that anyone can make. She nodded and began to recount the details of Conner's rescue once again. "We returned to Redcliffe and with the aid of the Circle, I was able to enter the Fade and confront the demon within Conner directly. I slew it, and it was then that Alistair and I tracked down the Urn of Sacred Ashes to reverse the effects of Jowan's poison on Arl Eamon. For saving his Arling and his family, Eamon agreed to help us, and suggested we put Alistair forth at the Landsmeet as the proper heir to the throne. I convinced Alistair to go along with it, but before we could convene in Denerim we still had to visit Orzammar and call upon the Dwarves to pledge their army to us."

"And was no one concerned at all by the Darkspawn that were slowly starting to amass in terrifying numbers?" asked a Dwarf whose name Kaetryn had forgotten.

"The people of Ferelden are not renowned for their foresight, it's true," Kaetryn remarked grimly. "Loghain's actions had created a situation that the nobles were more familiar with; civil unrest and strife. No one remembers the fourth Blight, nor was Ferelden hit particularly hard. I don't think anyone was prepared to deal with something like that without someone like Duncan there to tell them what to do, so they instead preoccupied themselves with problems that had predictable outcomes."

"Well let us hope that they don't make the mistake of forgetting again," said Teris impatiently as he drummed his fingers on the tabletop. "So what happened after you revived Arl Eamon?"

"Well as we travelled from Kinloch Hold back to Redcliffe, we travelled through Sulcher's Pass. We stopped for a meal and while hunting in the forest, I encountered a merchant searching for his lost mule. I helped him find it and in return he gave me a control rod for a golem that he had bought from some Dwarf. He told me that the golem was in the Village of Honnleath, just South of Redcliffe. I figured a golem might come in handy so I decided to take a detour on the way to the Frostback Mountains and check it out. I'm glad I decided to do that-Shale was amazing," Kaetryn exclaimed wide-eyed.

"Shale?" asked Teris.

"Shale was her name," Kaetryn confirmed.

"Her?" Hadrel and Teris asked in unison.

"Aye," Kaetryn laughed, her Ferelden accent escaping despite her best efforts to hide it. "Shale was a 'she' and _she_ was perhaps the most fearsome warrior I've ever seen. She crushed Genlocks like they were insects, and she could match any Ogre for strength. She really hated birds though; I couldn't take her into the city otherwise she'd go on pigeon squishing sprees. Once having been a Dwarf, she was really helpful in navigating the Deep Roads though, and that was helpful once we finally made it to Orzammar."

Teris just stared at Kaetryn, waiting for her to admit that she was joking. No admission came, so he scribbled "Shale" on the list with a note for himself to investigate further. "Go on," he urged, eager to be done with the meeting for the day.

"As you can imagine, Orzammar had problems of its own. King Endrin Aeducan had recently passed away, leaving the Assembly in a deadlock on who should succeed him. The Shaperate asked me to go into the Deep Roads and locate House Branka. The Paragon Branka took the entirety of her House with her into the Deep Roads two years prior to locate the Anvil of the Void, the tool used by the ancient Dwarves to imbue golems with the spirits that would give them life. Well... she left one man behind-her husband, Oghren. He helped us track her down so that she could choose the new King." Kaetryn raised her hand to the nearest Dwarf. "I'm sure you are aware that the word of a Paragon supersedes the Assembly in all matters?"

"Bah! The cockamamie politics of the pantywaist Noble Caste are of little concern to me, child," the Dwarf harumphed indignantly.

Kaetryn just laughed. "I'll admit, by that point I was tired of playing errand girl to whiney nobles, but the Old Treaties only compelled the King to aid us, and without a King, the Assembly was unable to agree on the colour of the sky."

"Oghren... why is that name familiar?" Teris asked.

"Probably because Oghren is on your list of Ferelden Wardens. When I went to Amaranthine to oversee the rebuilding of the Order, Oghren was there waiting for me, ready to become a recruit. No one was more skilled with a battleaxe-drunk or sober, and I'm happy to have him as part of my team. After he and Shale lead us through the Dead Trenches, we located Caridin, a Paragon preserved in the body of a golem." Kaetryn decided at that moment not to tell the Council about the details of the deal she had struck with Caridin in order to gain his blessing for a new King. She had had to kill Branka, and destroy the Anvil of the Void, preventing the creation of more golems. It had been Caridin's dying wish, as the Anvil ripped the spirits out of beings and placed them into the hollow shell of a golem, enslaving the spirit to whomever held their control rod. The Council would no doubt berate her for not allowing the addition of more golems to the Dwarven army, and ultimately, to the aid of the Wardens. At the time, she had to choose which she could stand to lose: powerful, almost immortal allies, or Shale, and her self-respect for allowing the obsessed and destructive Branka, who had destroyed her entire House in the name of discovering the Anvil, to continue to live. "He forged me a crown, and I took it back to Orzammar, presented it to Prince Bhelen Aeducan, and hightailed it back to Redcliffe to gather the Arl so that we could begin the Landsmeet. By this time, it had been almost a year since the battle of Ostagar and what I had seen within the Dead Trenches was an army large enough to swallow Ferelden completely. I didn't have any more time to waste of the needs of petty nobles."

Teris nodded, adding some additional information onto multiple scrolls. The sun had completely disappeared beneath the horizon, and the last remnants of the orange and pink sunset lingered just below the moon in the sky. Kaetryn stretched out some of the stiffness in her legs, and noticed through heavy eyelids that her eagerness to return to her chambers was shared with everyone that sat within the Aerie. "I had been hoping we could finish with this formality today, but I have a feeling that you have much more to answer for, Kaetryn, and your tardiness today did little to move this process along more quickly." Before Kaetryn could interrupt, Teris continued. "We will adjourn for tonight, and reconvene early tomorrow morning. Let us hope that we can have this finished by tomorrow's eve."


	6. Chapter 5

A grateful sigh erupted from the Council, and everyone filed quietly out of the Aerie, returning to their beds or to their ale. Kaetryn felt restless, torn between an unlikely slumber or a visit to the dining room, but decided that sleep would be a fruitless endeavour. The great halls of Weisshaupt, grand and yawning as they were, proved to be strangely uninhabited for the rather early hour in the evening, and Kaetryn was beginning to miss the bustle and activity that would fill Vigil's Keep at this time of day. Hoping to find some frivolous and casual company, she set out to navigate her way back to the East Wing and pay a visit to Maralyn's kitchen. When she arrived however, she it found it empty, the hearth unlit and only the lingering scent of spices to tease her appetite. Disappointed, she headed back to her room to grab a warm cloak-her heart set on exploring the city before all of the Anderfels went to bed. When she reached the door to her room however, she was surprised to find Purrlock sitting on the floor near her door with his tail neatly wrapped around his paws.

He stared up at her expectantly, waiting for her to scratch behind his ears. "Well hello there, little one. What brings you here?" she cooed softly. A quiet mewing was the cat's response. Kaetryn stooped to pet him, and Purrlock rubbed up against her ankles enthusiastically. Standing up, she looked up and down the hallway, hearing nor seeing anyone, and she wondered how the cat had known where to find her. Purrlock began rubbing his face on the door and kneading his paws on the floor, his tail swishing impatiently. With an eyebrow cocked, Kaetryn cracked the door a bit, and waited for Purrlock to react. As soon as the door was opened wide enough, Purrlock scooted through the opening and jumped up onto the bed, stretching out and making himself comfortable. Kaetryn laughed as she followed him in and sat down on the edge of the bed to stroke the length of the cat's body. "Do come in, ser! It would be my pleasure to entertain you for the eve. No no! I insist! Take my spot on the bed; I shall simply sleep on the floor," she giggled. Purrlock began to make a small humming noise, and nestled deeply into Kaetryn's feather pillow.

As she continued to pet the cat, Kaetryn summoned the magic within her and touched Purrlock's mind. He dozed lazily, and thought of little else than warm places and the special kind of delight garnered from laying within reach of sunbeams on a cold day. Kaetryn searched her memory, trying to remember the steps that Morrigan had taught her about shapeshifting.

Morrigan often set up camp a fair distance from everyone else on nights when the party would rest. She preferred to be alone, and rarely partook in conversation. Kaetryn had been watching her closely, waiting for Morrigan to work some sort of sorcery that was new to her. Preferring to stick with Entropy magic, Morrigan used only basic spells, and only when absolutely necessary. Eventually, the day came when Kaetryn and Alistair were cornered by a small brood of Darkspawn, and a large, lumbering spider dropped out of tree canopy and savaged the nearest Genlock. The distraction had been enough, and the Wardens were able to gain the upper hand. After the last Darkspawn lay slain, Alistair turned his sword on the horrifying creature, which was larger than even a warhound, when it spewed forth globs of sticky webs, plastering Alistair firmly to the ground. Kaetryn was about to let loose a jet of flames upon it when the spider became awash in a blinding, blue light. Kaetryn turned away from the brightness, and when she looked back, Morrigan was crouched on her hands and knees on the ground where the spider had been, and she laughed at the pathetic sight of Alistair frantically wallowing in the sticky mess. Seeing Kaetryn's stunned expression, Morrigan shrugged and continued walking along the path leading into the Brecilian forest. Shapeshifting was not a form of magic that Kaetryn was entirely unfamiliar with, but what little knowledge she possessed was sparse and lacking any formal explanation of the shapeshifting talent. Later that night, as Alistair sat by the fire, grumbling quietly to Leliana about how much he distrusted Morrigan while picking pieces of spider web off of his breastplate, Kaetryn decided to confront Morrigan about her strange magical skills.

"I hear you watching me, Kaetryn. Do not linger in the shadows and gawk at me like some cowardly fool. What is it that you want?" Morrigan asked without looking up from her grimoire. Kaetryn sighed and stepped forward, taking a seat on the other side of the small fire that Morrigan had built herself.

"I'd like to ask you something, if you don't mind," Kaetryn murmured shyly.

"If you must," Morrigan sighed as she snapped her book of spells shut and placed it in her bag.

Kaetryn hadn't had enough time to decide on how to word her questions before Morrigan noticed her lurking. "How did you become a shapechanger?" she asked finally, after an indecisive pause.

Morrigan looked mildly surprised by the question, but she simply shrugged. "I was not born as such; 'tis a skill of Flemeth's, taught over many years in the Wilds." After evaluating Kaetryn's deeply curious gaze, she laughed. "The Chasind have tales of we Witches, saying that we assume the form of creatures to watch them from hiding. When a child is alone and separate from his tribe, that is when we strike, dragging the young boy kicking and screaming back to our lair to be devoured. A most _amusing_ legend."

Kaetryn giggled at the absurdity of such a tale. "Your mother must have been doing this for a long time, then," she remarked.

"Changing her form, certainly. Devouring lost children, I cannot say. She has not done it in my experience, though in truth, my lifespan is but a fraction of her own. Why do you ask? Is there something specific you wish to know?" Morrigan asked warily.

Kaetryn raised her hands defensively, being careful not to offend Morrigan. "Well... I've seen magic like that before. Living in the Brecilian forest lead to inevitable run-ins with the Dalish Elves. Their Keepers are known to take the form of an animal-it's something to do with their worship of 'The Creators.'"

"Oh?" said Morrigan, her curiosity piqued. "I have no doubt that those people did much to keep their talents well hidden from Humans." She paused thoughtfully, and leaned in closely to whisper. "I wonder if I was to ask one of those Keepers of the origin of their magics, if there would be any relation to what I was taught."

"I doubt they'd be willing to tell you much. The Dalish distrust us 'Shemlen' completely," Kaetryn sighed wistfully.

"True," Morrigan agreed. "Though I suspect I have more in common with the Dalish than I do with my own kind. But... such is how it must be. Some of these traditions are old, indeed, passed down as carefully-guarded lore from one generation to the next." Morrigan paused, then laughed bitterly. "The zealots of the Chantry would uproot all such practitioners if they could, but luck have it, some still exist. My mother is such a one."

"That's good," Kaetryn smiled. "Such traditions need to be preserved."

Morrigan smiled brightly. "I am surprised you think so. Still, 'tis a pleasant thing to hear."

"I am not a Circle mage, Morrigan. I suspect I was raised with much the same attitude towards magic as you were; that it is beautiful and powerful, and a gift to be nurtured," Kaetryn scoffed.

"Indeed?" Morrigan said sarcastically. "So have you an opinion on my abilities that differs from the Chantry's, then? Am I an unnatural abomination to be put to the torch?"

"Certainly not!" Kaetryn laughed. "I think your abilities sound quite useful."

Morrigan winked playfully. "A most practical opinion. Far more so than any _man_ I have spoken to."

Kaetryn smiled and was quietly thoughtful for a time. "So can you change into other Human forms, as well?"

Morrigan shook her head. "The form of an animal is different from my own. One may study a creature, and learn to move as it does-think as it does. In time, this allows one to become as it is. I gain nothing by studying another human," she laughed. "I already _am_ the same as they are-they can teach me nothing that I do not already know. So the answer is no; my Human form is the only one that I possess."

"Hmm... That's very interesting, I would never have thought of it like that," Kaetryn ruminated. "Do you spend a lot of time as an animal? I haven't seen you change like that before-and your eyes! They look like those of a cat! How do you keep them like that?"

"My eyes? this is how I have always known them to be. If they were once another way, this is how I have accepted them to be-therefore this is the shape they take," Morrigan said before she sighed wistfully. "There were nights when the Wilds called to me, 'tis true. You look upon the world around you and you think you know it well, but I have smelled it as a wolf, listened as a cat, and prowled shadows that you have never dreamed existed." She trailed off as Kaetryn watched her, enraptured, before continuing. "But my life is as a Human, I am under no illusions to the contrary.

"So if your new form will be permanent, if you forget what you're supposed to look like?" said Kaetryn, conjuring images of all sorts of horrific shapechanging mishaps.

"In a manner of speaking, though it is not quite so simple," Morrigan replied.

"Can other animals tell the difference between you and another of its kind?" Kaetryn asked.

"They do not shy away from me. To their senses, I believe, I seem like any other of their species," Morrigan said. "As to what they think? I truly cannot say. Just as I am still Human, no matter my form, they are still animals, thus they cannot speak-even were I to ask. At least, not in any sort of language that I could understand." Kaetryn nodded thoughtfully. "Is there something specific you wish to know or are you just bored of, what is no doubt, an enthralling conversation that Alistair is hosting on my behalf?"

"Actually..." Kaetryn trailed off, twiddling her thumbs. "I was wondering if you could teach others to become shapeshifters."

Morrigan stared at Kaetryn thoughtfully, her inner thoughts concealed completely behind a stoic face. "Any mage that cared learn... yes I could do that-provided they possess the will to even make the attempt."

"Well I... I mean... I certainly possess the will to try," Kaetryn stuttered, unsure of herself.

"Hmm... well it is not something that you could learn in one night, in any case. It will takes years of practice and great mastery of magic. However, I can teach you the basics-come with me. I will show you a trick or two, if you wish," Morrigan said quickly as she got up and headed deeper into the forest. Kaetryn followed eagerly, and as they passed by Alistair, he shot them both a disgruntled glare, a look which made Morrigan smile proudly.

When they reached a clearing some distance from the camp, Morrigan stopped abruptly and turned to face Kaetryn directly. "'Tis not a talent one can simply read from books; each form must be learned anew," Morrigan said unceremoniously. She spread her arms wide, and was bathed in light again. Kaetryn squinted, determined to watch Morrigan's transformation in full. The ball of light floated upwards and shrunk rapidly. It flashed once, and where Morrigan had been standing fluttered a tiny sparrow. It flitted up into a tree, and perched on a thick branch. The light flashed again, and there stood Morrigan once more, leaning against the tree trunk for balance. Kaetryn gazed up at her, wide-eyed and dazzled.

"This requires that you release any preconceptions of your Humanity. From there, you must cast your spirit aside, plunging it into the Fade. When it returns, should you have properly disavowed your mind of your Human form, your spirit will seek out the proper vessel for which to fill. It will find none, and the magic you possess will mould your body as your spirit desires. It is as simple as that."

"Simple?" Kaetryn asked, shocked. "It sounds incredibly difficult... and dangerous!"

"I made no claim to the ease of which one can learn such a skill," Morrigan replied, her patience waning. "I tire of this exercise; do with this knowledge as you will." Morrigan paused thoughtfully before leaning in very close to Kaetryn's ear. "I suggest you start with something small and simple. The first time I changed, 'twas the form of a butterfly I took." She whirled around and walked quickly back to her tent, leaving Kaetryn to ponder her words, overwhelmed and alone in darkness.

For the next few weeks, Kaetryn kept her eyes peeled for any flying insect that she could capture and practice her new obsession. The day came when a green, iridescent beetle buzzed past her face and off into the trees. Kaetryn immediately dropped her staff and the slipped her pack from her shoulders, letting it fall to the ground with a heavy thump. She dashed after the beetle into the forest, leaving everyone behind to stare after her bewilderedly. Dane sniffed the air and pawed the ground as he whined in confusion, wishing to chase after her, but Alistair bade him to stay by his side.

"Vashedan!" Sten hissed after it became apparent that Kaetryn was not simply ducking into the forest to relieve herself. "What is the meaning of this?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Alistair replied, scratching his chin. "I don't sense any Darkspawn. I think she'll be back... I _hope_ she'll be back," his whispered, nonplussed. "Dane, you better go after her. Keep her safe now!" Dane bounded merrily off into the bushes, happily following his master's scent.

Leliana set her pack upon the ground and stretched out on the grass by the embankment beside the road. Morrigan began inspecting some nearby plants, in search of Deathroot to restock her poison supply. Alistair and Sten continued to stare off into the bushes through which Kaetryn and Dane had disappeared. Finally, Alistair set his food-laden bag down and gazed up at the dispassionate giant. "You know, you never did tell me how you passed the time in that cage for so-"

"No, I didn't," came Sten's quick and disparaging response.

Alistair nodded and looked away. A few more minutes passed and he kicked at the ground impatiently. "So... What did you do in there?" he finally asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Sten rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, his face scrunching up into a displeased glare. "A training exercise. I would observe an object, and then try to think of all the words in your language which began with the same letter as its name."

"That's-" Alistair gawked, his mouth gaping. "Wait. Just wait. You're joking again, aren't you?" he grumbled.

"No," Sten said definitively.

"You are not telling me, that you played 'I spy'... against _yourself_... for twenty days?" Alistair asked incredulously, trying to withhold a chuckle.

Sten simply shrugged. "There are a lot of things in Lothering that begin with 'G.'"

Alistair laughed uncontrollably for a long time, a sentiment which Sten ignored. Eventually, he finally stopped laughing, and straightened his back while he cleared his throat. He coughed and then turned to Sten once more. "I spy, with my little eye, something that begins with 'G.'"

Sten groaned in exasperation. "Is it a 'Grey Warden?' Is it, in fact, you?"

"Ooh. You're really good at this!" Alistair exclaimed. Sten uncrossed his arms, and stalked away from Alistair as he cursed repeatedly in the Qunari tongue. Kaetryn returned a few moments later, an elated smile lit up her face. She patted the breast pocket in her tunic, and tucked the flap over it tightly.

"Dare I ask?" Alistair asked, rather unimpressed.

"Not if you know what's good for you!" Kaetryn sighed happily. She plucked her things from the ground and continued marching along the West Road to the area where the Dalish were rumoured to have camped.

As she discovered later that night, hidden from the prying eyes of her companions, taking the form of a mere insect was easy. It's thoughts were uncomplicated, and she had little difficultly snaking her way through it's simple mind. The magic had been difficult to harness correctly, and it took a few tries before she finally managed to take on the beetle's form. When she did however, the world suddenly became a terrifying place. The compound eyes which she was forced to see through fractured her vision in an alien and nauseating way. She hunkered further into her hard and unfeeling carapace on the ground and shrunk away from the blades of grass that towered over her head. The sudden wriggling of her antennae startled her, and she tried to jump backwards, but tripped on her many spindly legs. The change was too much, and she started as she summoned her magic. The sudden overflow of power and the panicked lamenting at the memory of her familiar form caused a burst of energy, shattering the beetle's body and thrusting her back into her Human form. Kaetryn laid upon the ground for a time, trying to catch her breath. She returned to camp a few minutes later, her face pale and gaunt. It was many months before she attempted to practice shapechanging again.

"Well Purrlock, I hope you don't mind if I borrow you for the night," she whispered as she ruffled his fur and placed her hand gently on his head. She filled her body with power, and extended her consciousness into the cat. One of his eyelids jerked open in irritation, but he did not lash out or try to flee. Kaetryn's skin began to tingle, and soon the room was filled with the same brilliant, blueish light that Kaetryn had remembered from that night. A flick of Purrlock's tail distracted her and she lost her focus, causing the light to extinguish. Hissing in frustration, she grabbed her staff from her bedside, and clutched it in her left hand as she placed her right hand firmly on the cat's back. This time, she swelled with magic, stretching her mana as far as she could. The effort caused sweat to build up on her forehead, and she quivered with determination. She delved even deeper into Purrlock's mind, and her head was filled with images and sounds; and the taste of cool milk, and mischievous joy of running underfoot-the sensation of a warm place by the fire, and the comfort from hiding in tall places. She felt the delightful crunch of a mouse's spine between her teeth, and the glorious triumph of striking a bird from the air. As Morrigan had shown her, Kaetryn allowed her mind to be swallowed by these thoughts, and released all notion of her physical form from her mind. The flow of magic within her body dragged her spirit like a riptide into the Fade, but the current of magic rushing through her body withheld it just enough to prevent her from losing consciousness. Holding on with all of her mental fortitude, the Veil between her body and the Fade became taut like the sinew of a bowstring, until she finally released it, slingshotting her spirit back from the Fade with a great rushing sensation. The intensity of the feeling caused her to feel dizzy, and the blinding light that filled her eyes drove her over the edge. She blacked out, and she crumbled to the floor.

She had no idea how long she laid there in the darkness, but when she opened her eyes, she knew at once that she was no longer in the body of a Human. Though there was no source of light within the room, but she could see everything quite clearly. The crackle of the burning torches in the hallway were perfectly audible, and the smell of the fields where the cotton was picked still lingered on her bed linen. Kaetryn stood up slowly, adjusting to her new shape. She took an experimental step forward, and almost slipped. Searching her memories for the images and sensations she had gleaned from Purrlock's consciousness. She observed how Purrlock walked, his front and back right paws working in tandem. Kaetryn tried again, focusing closely on the movement of each leg. With some success, she traversed from one end of the room to the other.

Next she decided to jump from the floor to the table top on her vanity. She crouched down low, and pushed down on the floor with her hind legs. Kaetryn soared through the air and collided chest-first with the edge of the vanity, simultaneously discovering that cats do not always land on their feet. Hissing in pain, she limped over to the bed side, and reared up, placing her front paws on the edge of the bed before hopping up. Purrlock awoke and snapped his head up to evaluate her. He sniffed the air as his pupils dilated fully. Kaetryn stared back at him, unsure of what to do to calm him. The last thing she wanted was to get into a cat fight. Purrlock must have been satisfied with her appearance, because he yawned as he placed his head back on the pillow neatly. Kaetryn tried to laugh, but it came out as a hacking cough. She shook her head and leapt gracefully from the bed to the chair in the corner and then finally to mirror on the vanity.

In the darkness, Kaetryn examined her handy work. Were it possible for a cat to frown-she would have, for her body was not a perfect replica of Purrlock at all. Her eyes retained their icy, emerald colour, and the mottled patches of fur on her grey coat were the same shade of auburn as her Human hair. Purrlock had amber eyes, and a grey coat with orange and black spots, and Kaetryn knew that she would never pass for him upon closer inspection. Curling her lip back, she examined her fangs before she noticing the impulsive swishing of her tail. Standing up, she marvelled at the incredible dexterity that a cat's tail possessed. She curled it around in the air, making an 'S' shape and flicking it experimentally.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of approaching foot steps from the end of the hall, and the voices of two rather intoxicated men. Kaetryn paced twice, unsure of what to do. Shapeshifting back to her human form would surely draw their attention, and magic such as this was deeply frowned upon in some circles. She could hide, but she desperately wanted to explore Weisshaupt in the inconspicuous body of a mouser, and if they shut the door, she wouldn't be able to open it again if she were a cat. Shifting twice would surely drain her mana to a dangerously low level, and she simply didn't want to risk it. Letting out a frustrated yowl, she bolted out the door, and scooted to the very opposite end of the hallway, concealing herself as best she could, crouching in the shadows. The sudden movement beneath their feet startled the two men, and they stopped to inspect the door so blatantly ajar.

"What was that?" Henry, a stout, sandy-blonde haired man asked.

"Probably just a rat. Don't be such a girl," scoffed Quinn. He rubbed his hands through his shaggy grey hair and cocked his head at the open door thoughtfully. "Isn't this that woman's room? The one from Ferelden?"

"You don't think so, do you?" Henry squeaked. "I hope she isn't in there."

"Why?" Quinn asked.

"Because you didn't refer to her as 'Warden-Commander,'" replied Henry. "I heard she all but rips off your head and devours your innards if you show her the slightest disrespect."

"That's nonsense," Quinn scoffed. He stared warily at the the door and reached out to touch it. "There's no light on inside..." Quinn knocked gently on the door. "Ahem. Warden-Commander?" Silence.

"I heard she's a mage," Henry whispered. The sudden noise made Quinn jump, and he swiftly scuffed Henry on the back of the head.

"Quiet!" he hissed. "We don't want no one accused of stealing nothing. Let's just close the door and leave before the slayer of Archdemons returns." Quinn yanked the door shut and strode away as quickly as he could with Henry close behind.

From the shadows, the tiny head of a cat with green eyes emerged, the tapetum lucidum behind it's irises gleamed eerily. It watched Quinn and Henry descend the stairs leading towards the main corridor of the East Wing, and as soon as they rounded the corner, it slipped silently after them.

Henry and Quinn proceeded to the East dining hall and took a seat close to the fire. Kaetryn lurked outside, peeking inside quickly to see if anyone was watching. She looked around the room, her mind adjusting to her new form of vision. Blues and greens were bright and vibrant, almost blindingly so, but reds, yellows, and oranges were muted, washed out or entirely grey. The flames within the hearth were garishly bright and they radiated a heat that she could feel even from the far side of the room. Kaetryn swivelled her ears around, listening to the many hushed conversations that were taking place throughout the room, but they were all blended together in a steady string of gibberish. Kaetryn skulked quietly into the room, and hid underneath a chair. She crept forward, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of knowing but being unseen.

"Do you think the stories are true?" came a curious whisper. "There's all kinds of theories floating around. I even heard someone say that she somehow absorbed the spirit of the Archdemon and uses it to increase her power." Kaetryn dropped low to the ground and listened, focusing in on one voice.

"I know that's probably impossible, but you never know with mages, do you?" the silky voice said more clearly. Oh a whim, Kaetryn leapt on top of the chair and from the chair, she easily jumped onto the table. She perched on the edge, her tail swishing curiously. From her vantage point, she could see a young man in fairly ornate linen clothes leaning over the back of his chair as he chatted with an Elf and another Human his age.

"So what do you propose that the Council should do?" the Elf asked cooly as he lifted his ale mug to his lips. "The Blight was stopped and that should be the end of the matter. Do you think we should have her killed just because the Archdemon failed to do so itself?"

"No of course not, but there must be something she's not telling us, why would she feel the need to lie about it and claim that this 'Riordan' was the one who had slain it?" replied the young man. "At the very least she should be made to confess."

"And what? Tie her to the whipping post?" laughed the Elf.

They all laughed as they clinked their mugs together convivially. "You know, that's not a bad idea! I've heard she isn't hard on the eyes," the boy chuckled in response. Kaetryn's eyes narrowed from her spot on the table, and she kneaded the worn wood with her claws.

"Acht! Enough weh yuh ridiculous conspiracies," barked a haggard man who sat alone in the corner. Kaetryn squinted, but the brightness of the fire concealed his features. His accent was thick and indicative of his birth in the highlands of the Free Marches. "What does it matter? The Blighted thing is dead. Git on weh yuh," he barked brusquely as he slammed his fist on the arm of his chair.

"Come now Cathal, you can't tell me that you haven't been wondering how she she managed to slay the Archdemon and live to speak of it?" the other boy said meekly. Kaetryn leaned in closer, trying to get a better look at the man, but he was mostly concealed behind the glare from the fire. Sniffing the air, she detected the acrid scent of burning leaves and stench of a dog-the combination of which made her nose crinkle.

Taking a large haul of his pipe, Cathal sighed as a dramatic cloud of smoke poured from his nostrils. "No, aye don't. 'Tis unimportant tah me as the colour o 'er shite, an yew three best stop gossiping like petty chambermaids."

Just then, a familiar face slipped in the door with a laugh and his arms spread wide. "You lads wouldn't be drinking without me, now would you?"

The group looked up from their supper and rolled their eyes. "Evening, Tab," said the Elf quietly. "We were just talking about the Ferelden woman who arrived here the other day. You've met her, haven't you?"

"Why indeed I have, Algar!" Tab cried enthusiastically. He began to walk towards an empty seat near his comrades when he noticed a large cat seated on a nearby table eyeing him. As he passed it, he scooped his hand under it's backside and pushed it onto the floor. "Scat!" he hissed. The cat landed with a thud, and glared up at him defiantly. Tab stomped his foot near it's tail and it jumped away in fright, cowering under the table. Pleased with himself, Tab took a seat next to Algar and snatched the mug of ale from his hand, taking a large swig before slamming it down hard on the table. "What would you lads like to know? How she almost lit me on fire or how I plan to bed her within a fortnight?"

Kaetryn snarled quietly from her hiding place under a nearby table, her fangs glinting in the firelight. She was not a person to suffer indignities lightly, but she had never gathered much experience in dealing with the poisonous tongues of her peers. This was the first time she had ever left Ferelden, and there was never a point in her life in which she was never loved, respected, feared, or completely hidden from the opinionated eyes of the rest of the world. She arched her back and felt her hackles raise as her ears pinned back flatly. A feral hiss escaped her throat, followed by a guttural yowl, as she toyed with the idea of shifting back to her Human form and frightening the recruits. But in her heart she knew that it would only serve to alienate herself further from her fellow Grey Wardens, and give them more cause to dislike her, and she relaxed with a defeated mew. In an instant, her heart left Weisshaupt, and she yearned for the familiarity of Amaranthine intensely, her chatoyant eyes welling up with lonely tears. Kaetryn dodged for the door, eager to return to her room and hid from the prying eyes and spiteful words, only to skid to a halt as someone rounded the corner suddenly. Through blurry, startled eyes, Kaetryn glanced up to see the striking blue eyes of a tall, dark haired man. The man in turn stared back at her quizzically, surprised to see the uncannily familiar cat. Without skipping a beat, she leaped between his legs and raced down the corridor, disappearing in a flash of grey and auburn fur.

Colin stared after it for a moment, unnerved by the cat's oddly human expression. With a shake of his head, he continued into the dining hall where he saw Cathal seated in the corner, the usual one-eyed scowl set about his face. Upon seeing Colin, Cathal stood up and tapped his pipe empty into the fire. "What news have yuh, boy?"

"I spoke to Teris directly. He's tied up at the moment, what with his Blight business and all, but he assures me that he will here your case as soon as it's finished," Colin smiled as he placed a friendly hand on Cathal's shoulder. His smile turned into a disappointed frown as he sat down near the fire. "You'll be missed, old man."

"Bah! Say nothing of it, laddy," Cathal grunted as he gave Colin a hearty slap on the back and trudged out of the room.

Tab watched Cathal leave and turned to Colin as soon as he was out of the room. "Why? Where's he going?"

"He's requested an audience with the Council so that he may go to Kal-Sharok," Colin said grimly.

"The Calling," Algar whispered, wide-eyed.

Colin nodded. "He's been a fine Warden. It's just his time, I suppose." A servant girl approached Colin quietly, but he waved her away with a friendly smile.

Tab stared after her indignantly. "Am I invisible to you now, Aryana?"

Aryana turned her nose up and stalked back towards the kitchen. "You can serve yourself, you two-timing rake!" she called over her shoulder. Everyone, save Tab, burst out in laughter.

Tab simply shrugged with a devilish grin on his face. "She looks the same as her sister does flat on her back; it's a mistake anyone could have made!" There was more riotous laughter and table pounding before Algar hushed everyone and leaned in curiously towards Colin.

"Teris is your Commander, right? How goes it with the Ferelden woman?" he asked in an agitated whisper.

"He doesn't discuss the activities of the Council, you know that," Colin replied nonchalantly.

"But you must have some idea about what's going on. Are they almost finished? Will she stay here or depart for Ferelden afterwards?" Algar pried.

"Let us hope goes far away from here!" Tab cried in mock terror.

Colin shot Tab a bewildered look. "What do you mean?"

"Have you not heard tales of her tongue-lashings and fire-wielding?" Tab asked. "She's quite a terror if she doesn't like the look of your face."

Colin just stared at Tab in a confused daze. "No, I haven't heard any such tales."

Algar continued excitedly. "Do you believe the reports from Ferelden? Some say this 'Riordan' fellow killed the Archdemon, others say he died long before the Archdemon was slain. People whisper that she used _Blood Magic_ to absorb-"

"Whatever happened, I doubt she would lie about it if asked. Beyond that, it is no concern of ours. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got better things to do than sit here and listen to your idle gossip," Colin sighed with exasperation as he got up and strode out of the room quickly.

The recruits watched him leave warily. After a moment, Algar finally broke the silence. "Maybe he knows something we don't?"

"Like that she uses her magic and listens in to our conversations, I bet," Tab laughed. "I bet she's conscripted the servants into spying on us all. You know what women are like."

Kaetryn scurried through the darkness until she reached the door to her room and glared angrily up at the latch. She paced twice, and listened for anyone that might be approaching. Hearing nothing, she summoned her magic and focused on returning to her Human body. The transition was much easier, the familiarity of her Human form easing the process greatly. Kaetryn opened her eyes and found herself in a darkness not easily penetrated with Human eyes, and her staff in her left hand as it had been before she shifted. She leaned on it out of fatigue as she stood up, and opened her door. Purrlock darted out and into the darkness, and Kaetryn slammed her door as soon as she was through it, wiping away any stray tears. She laid her staff on the bed and began packing what few belongings she had brought with her from Vigil's Keep into her bag, so that she would be ready to leave the moment her business was done with the Council. Weisshaupt felt unwelcome and cold; she was eager to return to the company of people who sought enjoyment from things other than spiteful hearsay and lies.


	7. Chapter 6

_Moonlight trickled like soft, glowing water over the forest floor, and the scent of juniper and wild flowers tickled her nose. She smiled before opening her eyes, stretching her limbs out over the countless silk cushions spread out over a carved poster bed. Though it was dark, the moon illuminated the meadow in which the bed sat, and it was then that she noticed a man seated by her feet, watching her. She smiled, and he turned and placed his head in his hands. Crawling over to him, she tried to lift his hands away, but he wouldn't budge._

_"Do you still have it?" the man asked anxiously as he turned to gaze out into the forest. Fireflies wafted lazily through the air, stopping only for the briefest moment on the petals of a flower and turning them into little lanterns of pink and white. Tiny candles hung from the stars on invisible threads._

_"Do I still have what?" she said confusedly as she gently tugged at his arm. "Come back to bed and lay with me."_

_He turned to face her, his eyes filled with sorrow. "Do you still have it?" he asked again._

_"Of course I do. Why would I throw it away?" she cooed reassuringly. She stroked his face lovingly, before laying back upon a mountain of pillows, her silk gown spilling over the side of the bed. The man smiled and laid his head down on her lap, and she continued to stroke his head softly. _

_"I always worried that you wouldn't keep it, that you'd get rid of it and forget about me," he whispered, closing his eyes._

_"Why would you think that, Alistair?" she asked, placing her other hand on the small of his back. _

_He looked up at her and frowned. "I broke your heart. You should forget about me, Kae."_

_"You did what was necessary. I could never hate you for that," Kaetryn smiled._

_He stared at her in quiet admiration before rolling over and sitting up to get a better look at their surroundings. "Where are we?" Alistair asked, as he looked around bewilderedly. _

_Kaetryn admired his naked middle, and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer. He smelled just as she remembered from their travels, like a mixture of sweet musk and warm earth, with a faint hint of old cheese. It made her smile. "This is the Fade, and I am dreaming," she giggled._

_"Then I must be dreaming too!" he laughed as he ran his hands up her body before planting a firm kiss on her lips. She winked, and he flipped onto his back, playfully pulling her on top of him so she straddled his hips. "You can't punish a man for what he does in his dreams, right?"_

_"No, I suppose it would be hard to keep track," Kaetryn laughed as she leaned forward and kissed him deeply. His right hand brushed her hair back, and settled on her neck, before pulling her gown down past her shoulder. He fumbled clumsily with it before Kaetryn grabbed his hands and put them gently around her hips. She reached up and unlaced the gown, pulling it completely down to her waist. Alistair gawked, before sitting up and pulling her tight against his chest in a warm embrace, kissing her neck and face._

_"I miss you," he whispered._

_"And I you, old friend," she whispered back._

_He stared deeply into her eyes. "I would give anything to make it up to you, Kae. Would you let me do that?"_

_Kaetryn returned his gaze, regret filling her face. "I don't see how that's possible, Alistair. After tonight, I'll wake up in Weisshaupt, and you'll be back in Denerim-a thousand miles away."_

_"Then stay here with me. Forever," he smiled as he kissed her neck, his hot breath burning her skin._

_Tears welled up her her eyes and she faltered. "You know I can't do that-"_

_Alistair picked her up and laid her down on the bed beside him, cradling her in his arms. "Of course you can, my love. Just close your eyes, and we can stay here together, forever. No duty will ever pull us apart again," he sighed happily as he kissed her lips again, running his hand up her thigh._

_Kaetryn ground her teeth bitterly. Reaching into the folds of her dress, she pulled out a silver dagger and tucked it beneath her leg, keeping her hand on its hilt. She turned her head away as a tear slid down her cheek. Alistair frowned, and sat up. "Have I done something?" he asked._

_Kaetryn sat up and wrapped her left arm tightly around his neck, pulling him close. "I loved you, Alistair. I loved you more than you will ever understand, and if there had been a way for us to still be together, believe me, I would have found it." She pulled the dagger out from under her thigh and dragged it across his throat in a quick, brutal stroke. Alistair tried to shove her away, but she clung to him tightly as his blood poured over her bare chest. She raised the blade high, then plunged it deep into his back, piercing his heart. It made a sick, wet squish as a gurgle of pain bubbled up in his throat. She still held on to him tightly, kissing him passionately as tears ran down her face. Blood spilled everywhere, staining the sheets and soaking through her dress. She clamped her eyes shut, taking a few deep breaths. When she opened them again, she was alone, the brightness of the moon dimmed and the fireflies fizzled out of existence. Kaetryn lifted her blood-soaked dress over her shoulders as she stood up, covering her bare breasts and searching the surrounding area. A soft giggle from behind her made her jump, but peering into the watery shadows of the Fade revealed nothing._

_"Show yourself!" she screamed, her voice cracking with fury as she stomped her foot._

_"You are very powerful, mortal. Your kind rarely see through my guise," a woman's voice hummed softly._

_"You dare try to take my body, Demon? I'll kill you right here and now. How dare you enter my thoughts!" Kaetryn growled._

_The Desire Demon emerged from the bushes behind her, and laughed as Kaetryn whirled around. Its spine-like tail curled around its leg, and it continued to giggle demurely as it stroked its mauve-coloured breasts. "Oh but you desire nothing more than to be his woman, do you not? You would even give up your magic, just to be in his arms again, wouldn't you? Give me your power! Give me your body and I will see to it that you never leave his side again!"_

_"Shut up, wretch!" screamed Kaetryn as she clenched her fists. Her body shimmered as she pulled energy from the Fade around her, and outstretched her arm as a bolt of lightning shot forth, cutting a hole through the Demon's chest. It screeched in agony and collapsed. Kaetryn ran to its side and yanked it's face up by the horns. "Release me. Release me now, or die."_

_The Veil tore, and the fragments wavered ever so slightly, as if it were a gossamer curtain blowing in the wind, and beyond it was awash in golden light. Kaetryn dropped the Demon, and began walking towards the tear in the Veil, when it called out to her. "You will pay for this! I will not be so kind next time! You will live in eternal loneliness while I possess your body, and when it dies, I will live on until it is little more than dust! I will thrive on your desires-for freedom and for love! You will sustain me for many ages, mortal! I swear it!" it snarled as it writhed in pain._

_Kaetryn snatched a ball of fire from the air, triggering an infernal explosion when it met the Demon's flesh. It flailed and screamed, trying desperately to put the fire out, but Kaetryn sustained the flames as she watched it burn. The surroundings faded away entirely, the Demon no longer able to sustain the illusion. She was left standing in a barren desert, completely devoid of life. When the Demon finally stopped screaming, she allowed the flame to flicker out, and Kaetryn stared at the Demon's charred body with grim satisfaction as she let the blood-laden dress fall around her ankles. Naked, Kaetryn pushed her way through the tear in the Veil, forcing herself awake and out of the Fade._

Her eyes winked open, and she rolled onto her side with a sigh, cursing herself for being so easily fooled. It had been so long since a Demon tried to temp her into giving up her earthly vessel; she had almost let her guard down completely. It was a mistake she would not make again.

The sun had just began to rise, and the sky was a soft, blushing peach in the distant horizon. Impulsively, she reached over the side of the bed and underneath it, pulling out the bag that she had packed the night before. She rummaged through it until she found a book of maps that she had purchased in Highever, before sailing to Cumberland on her way to Weisshaupt. Kaetryn rubbed the hard leather cover before flipping to a map of Ferelden, which had a plain, white handkerchief folded between the pages. She took it out and tossed the book aside as she delicately unwrapped the handkerchief, revealing a delicate, dried rose. The flower had been pressed flat, but the petals still bore the same deep crimson colour it possessed the day she got it, paper-thin and velvety in texture.

The afternoon had been warm; thunder boomed in the distance as night encroached on the Bannorn, and the party had taken shelter within the abandoned fortress at West Hill, the Western-most Arling in the the Northern Coastlands. Capable of housing an army of over a thousand, it now only held a few hundred. Bann Franderel had been gracious enough to allow Kaetryn and her companions to wait out the impending storm inside an empty garrison-provided they hid themselves from view and left as soon as the storm passed under the cover darkness. Teryn Loghain had not yet been deposed, and aiding the Grey Wardens was still a punishable offence. From her chair by a tiny, dust-caked window, Kaetryn watched the flashes of lightning in the distance and the flags bearing West Hill's ringed bull heraldry whip about frantically in the wind. Running her hands over her lap, she felt a fray in the hem of her tunic, and turned to glare at it in frustration before digging out her sewing needle and ripping a piece of thread from her cloak to mend it. The journey to Denerim had been both fruitless and dangerous, owing to the fact that both Alistair and herself were wanted fugitives, and that they were unable to locate Brother Genitivi. The only clue she could find hinted at his intended whereabouts from a few weeks passed. He had departed for "The Spoiled Princess Inn" near Lake Calenhad, and from there, his trail went cold. Something about Genitivi's assistant, Weylon had been off; he was very jumpy, and some of the information he had given them seemed contradictory. Kaetryn even half-hoped that they'd never find him, resenting even being sent on such an absurd quest. The hunt for the Urn of Sacred Ashes seemed absolutely ludicrous to her-it was just an allegorical legend from the Chant of Light, but her healing magic had done nothing to improve Arl Eamon's condition and as farfetched as it felt, this was the only option they had not pursued as of yet.

She glanced over at Alistair, as she was now in the habit of doing quite often, and found him delicately shining Cailan's armour. They had retrieved it from some Darkspawn at the ruins of Ostagar, months after the disastrous battle, and Kaetryn insisted that Alistair make use of it. It was well made, and fit Alistair as perfectly as it had probably fit Cailan. They had also managed to retrieve the Theirin family shield and the late King Maric's blade. The sword was unlike anything she had ever seen, and it had not been difficult to convince Alistair to carry it with him, since he had no other relic to assert his birthright. Alistair noticed her watching him, and they both looked away, blushing. Kaetryn busied herself with sewing and giggled as she watched Dane harass Wynne for scraps of food. Just then, a soft rustle from her right startled her, and she looked stricken as Alistair quietly sat down beside her. He smiled and placed a small flower on her lap.

"Here, look at this. Do you know what this is?" he asked softly.

Kaetryn looked at the rose for a moment, forever petrified in a sort of half-bloom, and was taken aback by the simplicity of his inquiry. "Is this a trick question?" she whispered back, trying not to draw the attention of anyone else.

"Yes! Absolutely!" he chuckled quietly, scanning the room to make sure no one was watching their private exchange. "I'm trying to trick you-is it working?" She nudged him with her shoulder as she picked up the flower, marvelling at the beauty it still possessed after being dead for so long.

"It's a rose, Alistair," she scoffed as she smelled it, delighted by its heady scent.

"Aw, I just about had you, didn't I?" he winked.

"I've seen you thumbing this thing for a while now," Kaetryn remarked.

Alistair nodded solemnly. "I picked it in Lothering. I remember thinking, 'How could something so beautiful, exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness?' I probably should have left it alone, but I couldn't. The Darkspawn were coming, and their taint would just destroy it-so I've had it ever since."

"That's a nice sentiment," Kaetryn said with a surprised smile. On the outside, Alistair appeared to be little more than a goofy child, but he sometimes surprised her with an insight that she would have never guessed he had.

Alistair smiled back, and twiddled his thumbs awkwardly for a moment. "I thought that I might... give it to you, actually," he murmured to his feet. "In a lot of ways, I think the same thing when I look at you."

Kaetryn couldn't quite process his statement, and her mind twisted into a confounding place. "You think of me as a 'gentle flower?'" she snorted, proceeded by a sound comparable to a rusty door hinge with the hiccups.

"A _gentle_ flower?" Alistair chuckled? "Haha, no. I don't know that I'd put it that way." Still smiling, he leaned back and rested his hand on his crossed arms. "I guess it's a bit silly, isn't it? I just thought... 'Here I am doing all this complaining,' and you haven't exactly been having a good time of it yourself. You've had none of the good experiences of being a Grey Warden since your Joining-not a word of thanks or congratulations. It's all just been death and fighting and... tragedy. I thought maybe I should say something." He leaned forward, the tips of his ear burning red. "Tell you what a rare and wonderful thing you are to find amidst all this... darkness."

They gawked at each for a few seconds, exchanging breathless words through flustered glances. Finally Kaetryn coughed, barely managing to choke a few words out. "Ahh. So a corny sentiment?"

Alistair's teeth clenched together as he winced. "Well what was I supposed to do? Write you a poem? Pull your hair? I just saw the rose... I suppose I did it on impulse." He stood up, searching for the nearest hole to thrust himself into, but quickly sat down again, covering his face with his hands. "Was it the wrong one?" he said with a muted cringe.

"Maybe not," Kaetryn whispered with a grin as she inspected the flower more closely. "It's kind of cute, I suppose."

"Cute? _Cute_! Just what I was aiming for!" Alistair exhaled sharply as he clenched his sides as if he'd just been run through with a knife. "Next time, just stab me in the face before you say something like that." Kaetryn gave him an apologetic smile and he shrugged and he stood up, looming over her. "I'm glad you like it. Now... if we could move right on past the awkward part and get to the steamy bits, I'd appreciate it."

Kaetryn shot up and met his eyes with an mischievous look. "Sounds good! Off with the armour then?" she asked as she allowed her cloak slip to the floor.

Alistair laughed as he jumped back, his hands shot up defensively. "Haha! Bluff called!" he announced. "Damn! She saw right through me!"

They exchanged a friendly smile, each taking their time to relish in their new discovery, before an amused laugh shattered their delectation. "Oh you're so adorable when you're bashful!" Wynne clucked from across the room, and they both turned to see everyone staring at them in amusement, save Morrigan, who looked away in disgust.

Kaetryn blanched in embarrassment, and Alistair cleared his throat several times. "I'll be... ahem... standing over here." He turned around and muttered over his shoulder. "Until the blushing stops, just to the be safe. You know how it is."

"Yes. Perhaps that would be best," Kaetryn hissed. She glanced at Wynne, Leliana and then Zevran, all of whom were waiting for her to react, before taking a step forward. "We move out after sundown whether the storm has stopped or not. I want to reach the Calenhad docks within the next day or so, and the longer we stay here the more we risk drawing attention to Bann Franderel's generosity." Everyone groaned, but nodded as they lay down to rest for the remaining hours of daylight. Kaetryn resumed furiously stitching her tunic, but exchanged a quick smile with Alistair, a grin she wore for the rest of the day.

Gently wrapping the dried flower back into it's protective cloth, she placed it back between the pages of her book, and tucked it neatly back into her bag. Tossing her bedsheets aside, Kaetryn got dressed quickly, and marched towards the base of the North tower with staff in hand, arriving an hour before the meeting was supposed to begin. Not wanting to be late, she wandered the corridors aimlessly, avoiding the curious looks she got from everyone who walked passed. After completing a third lap through the hallways, she found herself at the base of the Aerie once again, and discovered Teris struggling to open the door with a pile of books and paper scolls in his hands. Kaetryn rushed over, and pulled the door open for him with a smile.

"You're early today," Teris remarked with an appreciative glance.

"I am eager to return to my duties in Ferelden, ser. Perhaps I was hoping if I got here early, this business could be concluded today and I could leave before sunset," Kaetryn said sheepishly as they began their ascent of the tower.

"Are your accommodations here at Weisshaupt not to your liking?" Teris asked, mild concern in his voice.

Kaetryn fumbled for an excuse, not wanting to let on that the Hero of Ferelden was bothered by gossip. "There aren't very many dogs in the Anderfels. It's a bit off-putting, ser," she winked.

Teris let out a hearty laugh. "Mage or no, it appears you Fereldens are all the same." They continued to climb the stairwell for a few minutes in silence before Teris stopped to steady his pile of books. Kaetryn reached out to lighten his load, but he waved her away. "I would never ask a lady to share my burden," he smiled.

Kaetryn simply laughed. "I am a Grey Warden. A cumbersome pile of books is nothing I can't handle. Please, I insist," she said as she plucked a few of the scrolls and leather-bound tomes from the top of Teris' arms. He nodded his thanks and they continued up the stairs.

"You're are youngest, you know," Teris said out of the blue.

"Pardon?" Kaetryn asked, rather confused by his lack of context.

"The youngest woman to ever be granted the rank of Commander of the Grey," Teris remarked, deep in thought. "I'll admit it's hard to argue that you aren't the most qualified Ferelden. It is rare to find someone as experienced as you are in dealing with Darkspawn."

Kaetryn's eyes widened. "I... I don't really know what to say, ser. I'm honoured..."

"Ha! Don't thank me, child. I was vehemently against the idea!" Teris laughed as he shifted the weight of his books around in his arms. "But... looking back, you are probably more prepared for the job than I was when I was chosen."

"You were a Warden-Commander once?" Kaetryn asked incredulously.

Teris frowned. "It would seem that you have not done much reading up on our history."

"I prefer to spend my time petitioning for new recruits. Ferelden may be a small country but there is no shortage of soldiers eager to test their mettle-the Grey Wardens have quite the reputation now."

"I'd imagine so, yes. Such is the way so soon after a Blight," Teris smiled. "However, had you kept up with your studies, you'd have learned that all Warden-Commanders become members of the Council after their ability on the battlefield has waned, through time or due to injury. The man or woman with the most experience then goes on to be the First Warden, and their second becomes Head of the Council. The First Warden chooses who will succeed him when his Calling approaches, and so on."

She hadn't noticed it before, but Teris walked with a half-concealed limp, and he favoured his right arm over his left as he carried the heavy stack of books. Kaetryn had never thought about what would become of her when she grew old and her power withered. She had always just assumed that she'd live on forever, scouring the Deep Roads for the rest of time; a thought she now realised was naïve. She didn't want to think about all the terrible things that could befall Ferelden if she wasn't there to stand in its defense. "With all due respect, ser, I can't imagine sitting around a table day in and day out-not after what I've done and the things I've seen." She hugged the scrolls closer to her chest, fighting the dark thoughts that crept into her head.

Teris smiled wistfully. "No. It is not a fate I would wish on many." His brows furrowed as his own morose thoughts filled his head. "For us, the kindest end is a quick death at the tip of a very sharp Darkspawn sword, long before our hair greys and the heaviest burden of being a Grey Warden is truly understood." Kaetryn simply nodded as a single tear welled up in the corner of her right eye, and they finished climbing the tower together in silence.

When the rest of the Council had finally arrived, Kaetryn quickly began to retell her story from where she left off the day before. She stood abruptly and began pacing the room as she mentally retraced her steps through time. "When Alistair, Arl Eamon and I finally reached Denerim, the bickering between the nobles had reached a fever pitch. There was civil unrest within the Alienage, and Queen Anora, the late King Cailan's widow, had gone missing. Talk amongst the commoners showed that the majority was still in favour of Loghain, so Eamon had me do some searching, and I discovered evidence of dark deeds perpetrated by Loghain; the type of things the people of Ferelden would never tolerate from their leaders."

"Dark deeds?" Hadrel asked. "Can you elaborate?"

"Uh-yes. Of course. This is just somewhat of a seldom discussed topic back home. People don't like to be reminded of what they let happen while they stood idly by." She cleared her throat before continuing. "I stumbled upon some documents, descriptions of payment dues and shipping dates for slaves from the Alienage-all bearing Loghain's official seal. He had been allowing Tevinter slavers to infect the Alienage with a false plague, and then told the Elves that the slavers were just healers sent from the Chantry. When they sought help for their sickness, they were clapped in irons and packed onto ships bound for Minrathous," Kaetryn sighed, her thoughts turning to the countless Elves she had not been able to liberate in time.

The Council fell quiet for a moment, and it was a long time before Hadrel spoke. "I understand your hesitation in sharing these details; it is no small wonder why the people of Ferelden would want to keep this information a secret. Rest assured, the Maker does not lay blame on the oblivious, nor those who are too eager to trust. Loghain will answer for his sins, not his countrymen who blindly followed him."

Kaetryn nodded, and gazed out at the clear sky through one of the openings in the Aerie. "The choices Loghain made will be a stain on our history for quite some time." Gathering her thoughts once more, she continued, making another lap around the table. "Loghain must have learned of my interference quickly. He began spreading rumours that it was the Arl who was responsible for the Queen's disappearance."

"_Politics_," came a bitter sneer.

"Indeed," Kaetryn nodded. "During the night, the Queen's handmaiden showed up at Eamon's estate, sopping wet and covered in mud. The Queen had sent her to petitioning us for help. The girl told us that Arl Rendon Howe had locked Anora up when she began questioning him about the events at the Battle of Ostagar. It was when I had slipped in during the morning shift changes disguised as a guard, that I found Riordan locked in the dungeon. I also found the son of a nobleman who bore witness to Loghain's treachery that day, and a Templar, of all things."

"A Templar?" Teris asked, abandoning his diligent archiving.

"Yes. The poor man was Lyrium addled, but from what I could get out of him, he had been escorting a Blood Mage back to the Circle Tower for sentencing when he was arrested by men bearing the sigil of Gwaren. I think it was the Blood Mage who was sent sent to assassinate Arl Eamon," said Kaetryn as she returned to her seat.

Hadrel scribbled a few quick lines down with a skeptical look. "This was all the work of Loghain?" he asked slowly.

Kaetryn shook her head and frowned. "I suppose we'll never really know how much of it was Loghain. Howe was a sadistic man; no doubt it was all mostly his idea. I'd love to have him... questioned, but he's dead now-I killed him."

Teris stared at Kaetryn for a moment, his face disapproving. "And why did you do that?"

"He was standing between me and Anora's rescue. He was trying to stop Alistair from becoming King. He was... a bad person-he is not missed!" she stammered.

"Need I remind you that the Warden's are sworn to remain neutral to all matters in the political realm?" glowered Teris as he set his quill down.

Hadrel cut in, and placed his hand gently on Teris' shoulder. "They were new recruits. You can hardly expect them to have understood-"

"She should understand now," Teris replied harshly with a dismissive wave.

Kaetryn was unsure of what to say. She felt like she had betrayed the Order, and wanted to slink back to Ferelden right then and there. But the memories of that year came flooding back, and she remembered what it had been like, how hard she had fought to save her country. Kaetryn pushed her chair out from behind her violently as she stood up and her staff knocked against the table loudly. "And need I remind you of the Warden creed: 'In war, victory?' Need I remind you that the Wardens must always do what is necessary, no matter the costs‽" The Council was hushed instantly, and Kaetryn commanded the attention of everyone in the room. "I don't pretend to know why it is that you summoned me here, had me journey clear across Thedas to stand before you and regale with tales of my exploits, but how _dare_ you tell me that I don't understand what I have done. How _dare_ you tell me that I should have done things differently. Alistair must wear the crown; it _had_ to be done, for the sake of Ferelden, and for the sake of the Grey Wardens. Anora could _not_ be trusted-I could _not_ allow her to finish what her father started. I did what I _had_ to do to unite Ferelden and quell the Blight before it overcame us all. As far as the _Grey Wardens_ are concerned, the ends will _always_ justify the means-"

"_Enough!_" Teris roared as he stood to meet her gaze. They glared at each other for a few heated moments and the Aerie was silenced, save for the ever-present whistle of the Anderfels wind.

Finally the red-haired Dwarf who usually slept through the proceedings grunted a hardened laugh, barely cracking an eyelid. "I think she gets it, Teris." All at once, the men sitting around the table burst into laughter. Teris sighed and slumped into his chair wearily. Kaetryn glanced around the room in confusion, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

"Maker's breath! That was the closest I've been to a battlefield in ten years!" cried a dark-skinned man to Kaetryn's left, inspiring another rush of laughter echoing off the white domed ceiling.

"Calm yourself, my lady," Hadrel said softly. "It was not his intent to demean your efforts. Please continue."

Kaetryn took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as she sat down again, pulling her chair forward. She paused for a few seconds, choosing her words carefully. "We took the information I had recovered to the Landsmeet. It was enough to sway the remaining nobles in our favour, but Loghain refused to step down. The Grand Cleric declared that the matter would be settled in a duel, Loghain volunteered himself and Alistair stepped forward to assert his claim. Alistair bested him, and slew him on the spot for his treachery at Ostagar. I was declared Commander of the Ferelden army and Eamon departed for Redcliffe immediately to rally his soldiers while we remained in Denerim to attend to the restoration of the King's Guard. By the time Alistair and I caught up to him, the Horde had already mobilized from the Wilds and was marching North. They marched straight to Denerim first, destroying any village they passed by along the way. Denerim was all but completely razed to the ground before our allies could assemble, and that's where we made our final stand. Atop Fort Drakon, Riordan delivered the final blow to the Archdemon, which is what caused his death."

"So it truly was Riordan who killed the dragon?" Teris asked carefully.

"Yes ser," was Kaetryn's reply.

"Are you sure?" Hadrel asked. "Because we've had conflicting reports of-"

"There were only three Wardens in all of Ferelden. One of them is sitting on the throne and another is standing right here in front of you. How it is possible that anyone else could have done it is beyond me," Kaetryn sighed, refusing to allow memories of Morrigan to fill her head.

The Council was deep in thought for a time, but the answer seemed to satisfy them. "His body has been laid to rest within the crypt, along with the others who have slain an Archdemon," Hadrel said softly. "Perhaps later..."

"I'd like that," Kaetryn smiled. Hadrel nodded and continued to writing down her account. Kaetryn's eyes flicked over to Teris, but he was still staring at her, scrutinizing her face.

"Does it bother you, that Riordan gets all the credit while it was you who fought while he sat in a cage?" Teris asked stridently.

"Not at all," she scoffed. "He was a fine man, a loyal Warden, and incredibly skilled with a blade. It was an honour to fight at his side."

Teris crossed his arms and continued to eye her, a look which she returned with growing ire. He said nothing for a long time, and Kaetryn returned his suspicious glare in spades. Finally he shoved all of his papers aside and pulled out a blank scroll. "So six months later, you head to Amaranthine and take up the Grey Warden banner at Vigil's Keep."

"Yes, though it wasn't as simple as that," she huffed._ It never really is for me_. "I travelled from Denerim with Mhairi, a Grey Warden prospect sent from Vigil's Keep as an escort. When we neared the gates, there was no one to greet us save for a brood of Genlocks. The Vigil was filled with corpses, and while I was searching the halls for any survivors, well..," Kaetryn shook her head and covered her face with her hands to hide an amused grin. "That's when I found Anders."

Kaetryn rounded the corner at full speed, staff in hand and Mhairi close behind her. Suddenly, she ground to a halt as jet of flames shot towards her. "What the-" she cried as Mhairi collided into her back. As the fire died down, Kaetryn saw a squealing Hurlock and a tall, lanky man blowing on his hands and patting them on his thighs to put the flames out. He wore the most ostentatious robes she had ever seen, deep, forest green with gold lining and sable fur trim, a style common in Tevinter. His golden blonde locks were messily tied back, with a few strands hanging down in his slender, cat-like face, and a sparkling gold ring hung from his right ear. His face had smudges of dried mud, and his clothes were slightly tattered, giving him the appearance of being dragged through the dirt. Quickly, he glanced at Kaetryn, and then back at the Hurlock, waiting for it to finally die. When it did, he turned back to face Kaetryn directly and put his hands up defensively. "Er... I didn't do it," he chirped.

Kaetryn scanned the room, and saw numerous charred Darkspawn corpses, but then she noticed the bodies of a half-dozen Templars, beheaded or disemboweled. Shocked, she looked back to the mage, whose mischievous amber eyes glittered in ecstasy. "Oh, don't get me wrong," he chuckled. "I'm not broken up about them dying, to be perfectly honest." He pointed at one of the Templars laying on the ground beside him and shrugged. "Biff there made the funniest gurgle when he went down."

It took her a few seconds to respond, the backdrop of horrific gore only made his glibness stark and alluring in the most unsettling way. "None too fond of them, huh?" Kaetryn asked sarcastically.

"Oh I know," he giggled with a wave of his hand. "_Most_ people enjoy being kicked in the head to be woken up each morning. Me? I'm just so picky."

Kaetryn couldn't help but laugh. "And who are you supposed to be?"

"You may call me Anders, my dear lady. I am a mage, and sadly a wanted apostate," he said woefully, tears almost welling up in his eyes. Kaetryn swore she heard the sound of maidens wailing in despair. "Welcome to the club," Kaetryn laughed, holding out her hand and filling the air around it with sparks of electricity. Anders smiled enthusiastically, but Mhairi interjected before he had time to speak.

"An apostate? At Vigil's Keep?" she asked incredulously.

Anders noticed her then, and his eyes focused on her curves beneath her heavy armour. "You weren't here when we arrived. I'm sure I would have remembered such a... _lovely_ woman as yourself," he grinned as Mhairi muttered insults under her breath. "We were just stopping here on our way back to the tower. 'Just a short rest,' they said, and now they're dead. Such a shame."

"So you're not one of the Grey Wardens sent from Orlais? You're just an apostate?" Kaetryn asked, disappointed.

"Well since that's what they call someone who doesn't believe in being chained up in the tower, so yes, I suppose I am _just_ an apostate," he grumbled. He walked over to a broken window at the far side of the room and stuck his head out. He sniffed the air and sighed. "Ah. Can you smell that? _That_ is the smell of freedom. It comes complete with the smell of dogs and charred Darkspawn, but the freedom is in there too."

"I think someone was just baking a pie earlier," Kaetryn laughed as she checked the bodies of the Templars, making sure they were actually dead.

Anders smiled and leaned up against the wall with his arms crossed. "The fact that there are pies around to smell is a step up for me. I've led a pie-less existence, more or less." He resumed gazing out the window again, and sighed melodramatically. "I've escaped from the tower seven times, and after my last attempt, they put me in solitary confinement for a year." His face darkened and he focused on the empty road through the shattered glass. "Eventually, I'm sure they would have branded me a maleficar, true or not, and executed me."

"First Enchanter Irving didn't seem like the type..." Kaetryn shrugged.

"You know how the Templars are as well as I do, don't you," Anders snapped. "You think they'd listen to Irving? The problem is that mages are simply _tolerated_. Barely. It's like you need permission just to be alive! There's nothing a mage can do to prove himself. Everyone needs to be protected from you-the end."

"Hey, I can sympathize, alright?" Kaetryn frowned defensively. "Perhaps you should head to Tevinter. I hear things are different there for our kind."

"I'd rather stay in my homelands. The Imperium does do things better, but we all know how _that_ argument flies around here." He sighed in frustration, but his eyes lit up with sarcasm and he returned to Kaetryn's side. She had found no sign of life in the Templars' bodies and Mhairi was silently itching to get back to their search for survivors. "All I want is a pretty girl, a decent meal, and the right to shoot lightning at fools."

"Oh? Is _that_ all?" Kaetryn giggled.

"True, I should aim higher. I want a harem, a banquet and the ability to rain fireballs upon every Templar in creation," he laughed. Sighing again, he took a step closer toward Kaetryn and leaning in very close. "Oh don't mind me, sweetheart. Now and again I recall that I'm not sitting in a cell and I have to smile, that's all."

"Commander, there is much to be done..." Mhairi grumbled.

"Right," Kaetryn snapped. "Anders, perhaps you should get going, then. And quickly. I won't say anything to the Templars, though they'll probably be wanting _these_ back," she smiled, pointing at the corpses cast about the room.

"I'll just slip out the way you came." Anders ran over to the door and turned back to give her a last flirtatious wink. "Good luck to you then, and have fun slaughtering Darkspawn. Maker knows, they could use it." He slid around the corner and was gone-or so she thought.

Deeper into the Keep, Kaetryn stumbled upon a flurry of battleaxe and Darkspawn limbs. She craned her neck over the bannister and saw Oghren waving excitedly at her before thrusting his axe across the middle of a Genlock. Mhairi and Kaetryn quickly joined him in the fray, and helped him slay the rest of the brood. When it was finished, Oghren wiped the blood from his face and turned to face them.

"A-ha! _There_ you are!" he grunted. "When these Darkspawn showed up, I thought, 'Just you wait until my old friend Kaetryn gets here and you'll all be spitting teeth out of your flaming arses!' Haha! Followed the screaming, and sure enough, here you are. Good on ya!"

"Oghren!" Kaetryn smiled, stooping low to hug his stout, Dwarven frame. "What are you doing here?"

Oghren blushed and shrugged her off. "Doubting your eyes, huh? I get like that after the fifth bottle or so." Kaetryn giggled, glad to see a familiar face. "I came here thinking I'd try my hand at becoming a bona fide Grey Warden."

"He was here when I left," Mhairi glowered. "I can't believe the Wardens didn't kick him out."

Oghren noticed Mhairi in the corner and smiled. "Hey! If it isn't the recruit with the great rack!" he cried.

"Yes," Mhairi snapped. "A prize for the Wardens, to be sure."

"It's good to see you again, Oghren," Kaetryn beamed.

"I find that hard to believe," muttered Mhairi.

Oghren swung his battleaxe high over his head. "Now let's go introduce some Darkspawn arses to my foot!" he cried. "Only polite thing to do."

"Agreed!" shouted Kaetryn.

They had completed a full sweep of Vigil's Keep when they happened upon a man dying from his injuries. Before he passed on, he pointed to a stairwell and told them that the Darkspawn who lead this attack had gone up there, along with Seneschal Varel and a few surviving Wardens. They bolted up the stairs and when they had gotten there, Kaetryn spotted Anders pressed up against the wall, peeking around the corner. He turned to see who was approaching, and smiled cheekily when he saw Kaetryn's surprised expression.

"So, just a thought," he whispered. "You might want to be careful out there." He peeked one more time around the corner and then edged his way back to stand behind Mhairi. "I think the big Darkspawn who lead the attack is just around the bend. At least... he was earlier," he shrugged.

"Aren't you supposed to be running for the hills?" Kaetryn asked skeptically.

"I know, I know. I'm really bad at this whole 'fugitive from justice' thing," he laughed. "I was already on the road when I thought, 'Well I can't just leave!' Not yet, anyhow. So I came back to help-and kill Darkspawn. They kind of go hand in hand, it seems."

Kaetryn nodded as she patted the man on the shoulder, examining him more closely. He seemed to be a bit older than she was, five or six years at least, but he was handsome-in a slightly irritating sort of way. "In any case, your help would be appreciated."

"Thank me later, I'm pretty good," he beamed. "Trust me, you'll be mighty... _grateful_ I came back." The look on his face accurately spelled out exactly how grateful he thought she'd be. Kaetryn just rolled her eyes.

Oghren let out an amused scoff. "Oh. A mage comedian. I thought those normally died young."

Anders flinched at the comment, as if he hadn't noticed Oghren's stout presence. "Oh. A Dwarf that smells like a brewery. You never see those anywhere!" Anders shot back.

"That witty tongue of yours is a useful specialty, I bet," Oghren grumbled, his fiery red beard whipping about in the wind.

"About as useful as smelling like whiskey vomit, I'd imagine," was Anders' retort.

"Ah... he's a keeper, Kae," Oghren smiled, flashing his teeth. "Let's make him dance!"

"Perhaps we should deal with the Darkspawn first, yes?" Mhairi barked in exasperation.

"Agreed," Kaetryn said. She stepped out onto the stone rampart, and saw a Hurlock wearing gilded armour, issuing orders to a small brood. Seneschal Varel was there, pinned on his knees with a blade at his throat, and the sound of the creature's voice as it ordered its fellow Hurlock to kill him was like dried, dead leaves scraping against the bare ground. Kaetryn's blood turned to a sickeningly cold sludge in her veins, and her heart fluttered in her chest, fighting the taint within her that was reacting the Darkspawn. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves and drew the heat of the air around them.

"Others will come, creature. They will stop you!" shouted Varel in defiance.

The Hurlock Alpha turned to gaze at Kaetryn, the edges of his nerves burning with white hot fire as she drew near, and it shrivelled lips curled over its pointed teeth in a calm smile. "It seems your words be true, human, more than you are guessing," it wheezed.

"It _is_ talking!" Anders exclaimed.

"Well, let's shut it up already!" came a hardened cry from Oghren as he swung his axe high.

"Commander!" Varel shouted exuberantly.

"Capture the Grey Warden," said the Hurlock as it drew it's unholy blade. "These others, they may be killed."

Drawing the last of the heat from the air around her, Kaetryn centred her energy and exhaled sharply, her breath blurring her vision in a plume of steam. The Darkspawn holding Varel captive hauled him up by his hair and threw him aside, before running towards them with its sword held high. With a sigh, Kaetryn released the energy, and the air around her returned to muggy, summer evening air. The Darkspawn drew nearer, only a few paces away from cleaving her in two, and Mhairi unsheathed her sword, ready to leap to the Commander's defence. Suddenly, the air around the charging Hurlock was sucked inward like a great vacuum, and it seared with a frigid, icy blast far colder than any mountain-top galestorm. Petrified in a statue of hoarfrost and rime, the Hurlock stopped short only two feet in front of Kaetryn, and with a smirk she swung her staff high overhead before bringing the heavy jewel-end down across its face as hard as she could. It shattered into meaty shards and Kaetryn whirled around, casting the heat she pulled from the air at the ground in front of the Alpha, creating a pool of fire that it leaped over with terrifying strength. "Mhairi! Oghren! Kill the Alpha! Anders! With me!"

Oghren charged with his axe in both hands, leaping over the pieces of frozen Hurlock skull and Mhairi close on his heels. Her stride was larger, so she reached the Alpha first. Throwing the weight of her body behind her shield, she tried to bring her sword down on the Alpha's shoulder, but even with the added burden of her heavy armour, it wasn't enough to knock it off kilter. With a sickening ease, it blocked her sword wing and buffeted her body aside with other arm. She rolled dangerously close to the edge of the roof top, but managed to catch herself in time. Oghren had reached the Alpha's side and planted his battle axe deep within its ribcage. It hissed, and tried to take Oghren's head off with its sword, but he punched it in the jaw. That blow stunned it long enough for Mhairi to run over an plunge her blade downward, through the back of its head and out of its fetid maw. It's tongue flopped about like a dying fish as the burgundy ichor poured freely down it's golden breast plate. It collapsed as Mhairi pulled her blade free.

The remaining two Hurlocks ran towards Anders, and Kaetryn intercepted one with a low, sweeping strike to its knees. It stumbled forward flat on it's chest and Kaetryn ran up it's back, twirling high into the air. With a horrid snap, she brought her heels down on the back of its neck, and the Hurlock remained on the ground, lifeless. Anders sent an arch of lightning crackling through the air towards the remaining Darkspawn, and it collapsed, twitching as smoke rose from its charred skin.

Before he could thank them, Varel noticed some men approaching on the road in the horizon. The group rushed through the fortress in a final sweep for survivors before assembling at the front gates to greet them-or destroy them, if they happened to be of the Darkspawn persuasion.

Kaetryn knew that Alistair would be coming to the Keep, but she had no idea it would be so soon. As he entered the courtyard, both her and Varel took to their knee. Kaetryn kept her eyes on the ground, refusing to look him in the eye; her heart was still very broken. Alistair looked around at the destruction and frowned as the rest of his armoured guard filed through the gates.

"It looks like I've arrived a bit late," he frowned as he looked down at Kaetryn. "Too bad. I rather miss the whole Darkspawn-killing thing."

"King Alistair!" Mhairi cried as she fell to her knee in a hurry.

"I wanted to come and give the Wardens from Orlais a formal welcome," Alistair said. Kaetryn stood up and turned to survey the damage along with him, keeping her distance and her eyes averted. "I certainly wasn't expecting this. What's the situation?"

"What Darkspawn remained have fled, your Majesty," Varel volunteered. "The Grey Wardens who arrived from Orlais appear to be either dead or... missing."

"Missing?" Alistair cried out in surprise. "As in... taken by the Darkspawn? Do they even do that?"

"I do not know, your Majesty. I know only that we cannot account for all the Wardens," Varel replied sadly.

"I see," Alistair frowned. He turned to face Kaetryn, but blushed and looked away. "At least the Hero of Ferelden is still here and alive. That's something, right?"

"I'm fine, Alistair," Kaetryn croaked, "but this makes things... _difficult_."

"That's a bit of an understatement, isn't it?" Alistair sighed. "You have quite the task ahead of you. Really, I'd like to help but you're on your own, for the moment."

"Hey!" Oghren hollered indignantly. "What am I? Chopped nug livers?"

"From the smell, that's not a bad guess!" Anders laughed.

"I came here to join the Grey Wardens, and from the looks of it, you could use the extra hands! Now where's the giant cup? I'll gargle and spit!" Oghren bellowed.

"You're not allowed to spit it out," Kaetryn muttered at him, wishing he'd be more respectful around Alistair now that he was King.

"Heh. That's what I always say," he chuckled as Kaetryn blushed in embarrassment.

"I... suppose all are welcome in this dire time," Mhairi sighed.

"Joining the Wardens, hey? Well good luck with that!" Anders called as he turned to walk out the gate. "I'll just be-"

"King Alistair!" cried a woman woman wearing Templar plate armour. She came running from behind the King's Guard and placed herself between Alistair and everyone else. "Your Majesty, beware! This man is a dangerous criminal!"

"Oh the Dwarf is a bit of an ass, but I wouldn't go that-"

"She means me," Anders said, crestfallen that the Templar had caught up with him.

"This is an apostate who we were in the process of bringing back to the Circle to face justice!" the woman said imperiously as she grabbed Anders by the arm.

"Oh please," Anders grumbled, pulling his arm away. "The things you people know about justice could fit in a thimble. I'll just escape again, anyway."

"Never!" the Templar shouted. "I will see you hanged for what you've done here, murderer!" Kaetryn glared at the woman, wishing she could do something.

"Murderer?" Anders said, taken aback. "But those Templars were-oh, what's the use? You won't believe me anyhow."

Alistair sighed and kneaded his temples. Kaetryn knew that his Templar background left him conflicted. "It seems there isn't much to say, Unless..." He looked at Kaetryn's face for the first time in months, and he saw that she was chewing the inside of her cheek as she always did when trying to hold back an outburst, and her face was flushed and puffy, like when she was filled with unbridled rage. He knew exactly what was coming. "You have something to add, Commander?"

"I do!" she snapped. Kaetryn turned to face the Templar and straightened her back, raising herself up to her full height. "I hereby conscript the mage into the ranks of the Grey Wardens."

"What? Never!" the Templar shrieked as she turned to Alistair for support.

Alistair smiled, happy to see that the past six months hadn't changed her too much. "I believe the Grey Wardens still retain the Right of Conscription, no? I will allow it."

"Your Majesty, the Chantry supersedes the Crown in such matters as-"

"And the Right of Conscription supersedes all matters, including those of the Chantry," Kaetryn snapped. Anders silently beamed, smugly grinning at the Templar.

"If... if your Majesty feels it is best..." the Templar stammered, defeated and glaring at her boots before she stomped back towards the road leading to Denerim.

"Ha! Way to go, kid! Welcome aboard!" Oghren cheered.

"I guess that will work!" Anders laughed. "Me? A Grey Warden? Imagine that."

"Congratulations, ser mage. I look forward to fighting at your side," Mhairi announced formally.

"Well, if you have everything under control, I will need to take my leave," Alistair said.

"I believe the estate has been secured, yes. We have suffered a great many losses, but the Darkspawn are gone and survivors are slowly starting to amass in the main hall, your Majesty," Varel said reassuringly.

Alistair turned to Kaetryn and they met each others eyes, both feeling a twinge of regret. "The security of Ferelden relies on the Grey Wardens now, even weakened as the Order is. It will be up to you to deal with the vestiges of the Blight, before the situation grows out of control. No easy task, but I know you, and I'm confident that you are up to it." Kaetryn nodded, and returned to evaluating the particular texture of the mud beneath her feet. Alistair sighed, and looked away. "Good luck, Commander. May the Maker watch over you."

"May He watch over us all," Kaetryn whispered, fighting back tears. Alistair marched out towards the road, his guard close behind him. Oghren and Mhairi followed the Seneschal back into the Keep, and Anders followed, but not before he noticed Kaetryn's dejected look as she watched the King leave. He made a mental note to pry about it later.

"Mhairi did not survive her Joining," Kaetryn said solemnly. "But over the next few months I recruited who I could. There was Nathaniel Howe, son of Rendon Howe. He had snuck passed the guards at Vigil's Keep, planning on assassinating me. He was caught leaving the grounds with a few family heirlooms and was arrested before I had even arrived. I heard it took four Wardens just to bring him down; he was very skilled, plus I thought that his service could make up for his father's injustices."

"I'm surprised you were able to inspire loyalty from the son of a man you murdered," Teris remarked flatly.

"Nathaniel had not been made aware of the crimes his father committed," Kaetryn brusquely replied. "And I'd hardly call his death a murder."

Teris did not respond-he just continued to flip through papers, making quick notes in the margins with pursed lips. Kaetryn sighed, eager for this business to be done. "After that, there was Velanna, an exiled Dalish Keeper, Sigrun, a Dwarf from the Legion of the Dead, and the body of the Warden Kristoff..."

"Yes, we have detailed records of them," Hadrel said. "We'd like to know more of the apostate mage you recruited. He went missing two years ago, and has since been traced to the Free Marches, though we have been unable to detain him. Did you know he was going to make a run for it? Do you know where he might have been heading?"

"And let me remind you that it is your duty to the Order to answer truthfully. We cannot have him getting drunk in some tavern and revealing all of our secrets," Teris said sternly.

"The Free Marches?" Kaetryn scoffed, shocked that he had fled that far. She never thought she'd hear of him again.

"Yes," Hadrel replied, his face darkening. "A Warden from Orlais by the name of Stroud was on a mission near Kirkwall about a year and a half ago. He sent a report through our discreet channels saying that his map of the Deep Roads entrances in the Free Marches was stolen, and he believers Anders to have been the culprit."

"Well I can't imagine what he would possibly want with that," Kaetryn sighed, silently reprimanding herself for letting him go.

"Our sources indicate that you two were quite close, that you often gave him private council on many occasions. Are you sure he never mentioned any desire to venture into the Deep Roads for reasons other than his duty to the Wardens, did he ever express any desire to go there alone?" Hadrel asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Kaetryn frowned at the aspect of being spied on, and wondered who the Wardens were getting them their information. "Oh it's quite the contrary Hadrel, I assure you. Anders despised the Deep Roads almost as much as he despised being at the Circle."

Anders paced quietly in front of a black iron door, a furry bundle wrapped up in his arms. He had been waiting for almost ten minutes, and he was growing more and more anxious with every padded thud of his feet on the cold, granite floor. He sighed a final time, before spinning on his heels and grasping at the Mabari's head door knocker. Suddenly, the door ground on its hinges as a small hand pushed it open, and Kaetryn stood before him, leaning against the archway. Her hair was thrown back in the tangled mess, while her face was twisted in a frustrated scowl. She was dwarfed by the grandiose stone walls and she reminded him of a small girl throwing a tantrum. Anders' panicked look melted away as soon as he saw her, and he shot her a cheeky wink as he slipped past her into the Warden-Commander's private office. Using all of her strength, she heaved the rusted door closed behind them, and began to quietly pluck the many tomes and assortment of baubles from the various stools and leather-bound chairs strewn about the room. She dumped them rather unceremoniously on her already overflowing desk, almost knocking over one of the many candles that served as the only source of light, before finally turning to face Anders, a forced smile stretched across her face.

"Good evening to you too," Anders chuckled.

"Don't start," Kaetryn grumbled. "Mistress Woolsey has been jumping down my throat about the treasury all day. She says the books don't add up and it's somehow my fault. I've been tearing the blighted place down trying to find my records. I'm not having much luck." It was then that she noticed two shiny eyes peering at her from within the folds of Anders' crossed arms and she immediately snatched it away from him. "Hello, Ser-Pounce-A-Lot!" She nuzzled his orange, striped head before placing him gently on the floor. "You know you didn't have to bring him here. You could have left him with Gwyn in the kitchen like you usually do."

"I know," Anders smiled, "I just wanted a chance to see you one last time."

"That's right! You depart for Orzammar tomorrow. I had almost-wait. I thought you, Rolan, and Justice left this morning? What day is it?" Ser-Pounce-A-Lot leapt from the floor to the top of a bookshelf, causing a number of books and stacked leaflets to come crashing to the floor. Kaetryn threw her arms into the air as she hollered Dwarven curses and Anders laughed as he began to pick up a few of the fallen items. A crumpled sheet of thin paper caught his attention and he held it up for Kaetryn to see.

"Is this what you've been looking for?" he asked with a smug grin on his face.

"Andraste's great flaming ass! Where did you find that?" she baulked.

"_I_ didn't find it; Ser-Pounce-A-Lot did," Anders beamed, before he scooped the cat from atop the bookshelf and hugged it close. "You're such a clever kitty, aren't you? Yes you are!" Ser-Pounce-A-Lot meowed sweetly at his master's affection. Anders glanced over the paper quickly before handed it to Kaetryn. "You forgot to carry the two," he said matter-of-factly.

"Wh-what? You can't be serious!" Kaetryn snatched the paper and glared as she went over the arithmetic again. Finally, she sighed in defeat. "Mistress Woolsey is never going to let me hear the end of this."

Anders laughed as he put the cat back on top of the shelf. "You're just not cut out for this, Kae. Forcing a talented and beautiful mage such as yourself to act as a glorified book keeper is an insult."

"Oh don't be so dramatic, Anders," Kaetryn snorted as she nudged his arm. "What would you have me do? Where would you have me go? The Blight is over, and my duty is to rebuild the Order in Ferelden and, according to Mistress Woolsey, learn how to manage the Keep's finances." It was then that she noticed the charred edges of Anders' robes. Blood was spattered all over his sleeves and soot smeared on his face. "Anders? What's happened to you?"

"Come with me," Anders said as he took her hand and his eyes bore down on her with intense passion. "I brought Ser-Pounce-A-Lot here because I knew you'd take care of him for, but now that I see you, it only makes sense that you come with us-erm with me, I mean."

Kaetryn stared at him, confused by his sudden change in tone. "Come with you-to Orzammar? You know I'd love nothing more than to visit Tapsters, and the Proving Grounds again but I really must-"

"I'm not going to Orzammar; I'm never setting foot in those blighted caves again. I came here to tell you that I am leaving, that you can't stop me, and that you should be coming with me." Anders whispered enigmatically, his piercing gaze made all the more striking by the lack of his usual mirth. Kaetryn's cheeks flushed as she struggled to find the appropriate response, and when Anders noticed the bashful hue on her face, he began to laugh. "Oh that's not what I meant, love-though you _know_ I'd never pass up the opportunity to finally put some wrinkles in those robes of yours."

Blushing in embarrassment, Kaetryn shoved him aside and whisked around the desk to sit in the large, wooden chair behind it. She tenderly repositioned her staff so that it was leaning up against the back of her chair, half-concealed and close at hand. Adopting a stern and official look, she folded her hands in her lap and stared him down. "What do you mean you're not going to Orzammar? You, Justice, and Rolan are supposed to be heading into the Deep Roads on a scouting mission in a fortnight, and I don't remember leaving any of that up for debate."

"Rolan is dead, and Justice is... well he's gone. I can't explain everything now, but Rolan was a Templar spy. The only reason he joined the Order was to spy on you and I, to make sure that we weren't practicing Blood Magic, and that we remained good little Andrastians. Some Templar showed up and they and attacked me just outside Highever for _being an abomination_ or something. I killed them both."

"What?" Kaetryn gulped. She could scarcely believe what she was hearing. "But... where is Justice?"

"I told you, he's gone. I'll explain the details later. Just come with me. There's something important we have to do."

"What could possible be more important than eradicating the Darkspawn?" Kaetryn gasped as she stood up, not even noticing as her staff was knocked to the floor.

Anders winked in his typically irritating way before simply shrugging. "Honestly, how can you stand it?"

"Wh-How can I stand what?" Kaetryn sighed, her temper mounting. She was having a hard time keeping up with Anders' constant veering from sarcastic sod to frantic madman.

"You mope around the Keep all day, or trudge across Ferelden for months _in search of new recruits_ as you say, when really you're just running! You _pretend_ you're still out on some grande adventure like you were with him, and yet you can't even stand being in the same room as him! I've seen the way your face scrunches up every time we near Denerim-it's like the very air poisons you! You can barely speak to him, nevermind look at him-suddenly the candle on some side table is the most fascinating thing you've ever seen when he's around. You wince like a beaten dog every time someone cries _Long live our King Alistair_-there! You just did it again!" Anders paused for dramatic effect, waiting for Kaetryn to recover from the realization that her silent suffering had not gone unnoticed. He continued after taking her face gently in his hands. "The Maker did not make you to be a treasurer, or a historian, or a politician. I don't even think he made you to be a Warden, let alone some silly little girl who pines over a foolish Prince that threw her away in favour of a shiny crown-" Anders was silenced as Kaetryn's hand was drawn across his cheek with a resounding crack. He glared back at her, rubbing the welt on the side of his face. She glared back at him, breathing heavily as she fought back tears.

"He did _not_ just throw me away," Kaetryn hissed as she rose up to her full height. "Whether we like it or not, Anders, there exists a thing called _duty_. Wardens, or Princes, or wayward apostates-it doesn't matter, we are all bound by it." Slowly, she walked out from behind the desk so that she stood mere inches from Anders' nose. "Alistair," she said carefully, mindful of her facial contractions, "was presented with a choice. He could accept his birthright and all that came with it, or he could allow someone whom he thought unfit and untrustworthy to lead this country. He could forsake his life as a Warden, or he could give Anora the opportunity to finish what her father started and doom us all. It's was... just the reality of it all."

"Duty," Anders said, blitheness filling his face, "That is exactly why I'm leaving." Kaetryn just stared at him, her face blank and baffled, so Anders continued. "The Blight has been stopped. The Darkspawn no longer ravish these fair lands so give it up Kae! Your efforts are needed elsewhere now. Come with me. Help me fight for the freedom and equality of mages everywhere. Maker it feels good to stand for something! I don't think I need to-"

"Oh I get it! This is a joke! Some sort of practical trickery, right? You can't seriously bang on my door late at night, inform me that you've murdered one of _my_ Wardens, and a Templar, then proceed to tell me that you are deserting the Wardens, all the while insulting me to my face, and demanding I come with you on some pointless quest to change the world!" Kaetryn clapped her hands over her face, and took a few steps away from Anders to think. "So let me see here. That's three death sentences and a few swift kicks to the ass, unless I've forgotten to carry the two again!" She whirled around and grabbed Anders by the collar. "Tell me Anders, how am I to _kill_ you three times?"

"You wouldn't call it pointless if you were dragged from your mother's arms in chains when you were just a child. Surely you must see the injustices that our kind face-how can you just _let_ this happen?" Anders pleaded. "And the Circle here in Ferelden is supposed to be one of the more tame ones! I can only imagine what it's like in Orlais!"

"What makes you think I possess the power to make the Chantry change it's mind about mages?" Kaetryn breathed, throwing her arms up in the air in frustration.

"Perhaps it's because you possessed the power to change the Archdemon's mind about destroying everyone in Thedas?" Anders smiled cheekily.

"Maker's breath, Anders! I didn't change its mind; I killed it!" she hollered. Staring at the infectious grin on Anders' soot-covered face and the ridiculousness of his demands made her burst out into sudden laughter. "What do you expect me to do, kill the Chantry? Surely you're aware of how absolutely mad you sound right now."

"Maybe! If that's what it takes!" he cried, suddenly serious. After a brief moment of staring, they both began to giggle at the absurdity of the conversation. The Chantry had always been the reigning presence in Thedas, even for those who lived beyond their control. If you did not live in reverence of the Chantry, you lived in fear of it.

When the laughter finally stopped, Kaetryn leaned on the corner of her desk and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "Why do you fear them, Anders? You are a Grey Warden now; the Chantry cannot touch you as long as you serve the Order."

"Perhaps _I_ am safe, but what about the thousands of children that are taken from their homes by the Templars? What of the hundreds of innocent mages beaten and killed everyday; their only crime is desiring freedom from tyranny?" Anders took her hands in his and looked down on her from his full height. "Please Kae, come with me and let us bring justice to the world."

Kaetryn frowned and shook her head. "Darkspawn kill mages and Templars, just the same as they kill children and small kittens. How can the mages be truly free of tyranny if we still live in constant fear of the next Blight?" Kaetryn shook her head and squeezed Anders' hands warmly before releasing them. "This is not a fight I can simply abandon. I'm sorry." Anders just gazed at her, thoroughly dejected. He pursed his lips, and reached up behind her to smooth Ser-Pounce-A-Lot's fur one last time. "About Rolan... I knew he still loyal to the Templars. It was the price we had to pay to have the Chantry release your phylactery-you had to be watched. They wouldn't let it be another Warden, not even me, and the Templars assured me that Rolan would follow my orders without question, that he would be just like any other Warden. I never thought he would attack you."

"You couldn't tell me?" Anders hissed, his teeth grinding as he continued to stroke the cat's body. "I always suspected but I assumed you'd at least be honest with me."

"If I had been, would you have stayed?" Kaetryn sighed. "My options were to give the Templars what the want, or risk losing the most talented Spirit Healer I have ever seen in another one of your absurd attempts to steal back your phylactery. I didn't think Rolan would even survive the Joining, and I knew if I told you, you'd just run." Her gaze dropped to her supple leather slippers. "What happened? Why won't you tell me what happened to Justice?"

"The less you know, the better." Anders turned to head for the door, but Kaetryn grabbed his elbow. He scowled at her, his eyes filled with an unknown presence, something Kaetryn didn't quite understand, and it stunned her. "He cornered me, him and one of his Templar pals. I burned them, and tore them limb from limb. They are dead, and that's all that's all you need to know." The air around them sizzled with energy, yet it felt frigid on her skin. Anders grunted and covered his eyes, straining to compose himself. Kaetryn just gawked at him, and he smiled awkwardly. "I really must be going, hm? Before someone notices I'm here."

"You can't do this..."

"And what are you going to do about it, love? Lock me up? I've seen the Keep's dungeon-it's nothing compared to the cell I've escaped from in the Circle. Then you'd chase me down, and drag me back here, and what then? You can't _force_ me to fight Darkspawn, and I'm pretty confident in my dashing good looks that you simply couldn't bare the thought of having me executed." Anders lunged at her before she could react and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her deeply. Dazed, she stared at him wide-eyed before pushing him off.

"Anders! To the Void with-"

"Oh no. You're not the boss of me anymore, and you could very well be the last pretty girl I ever see. You are _not _going to ruin this for me." He slid his hand behind her neck and pulled her close once more. His kiss was softer this time, more gentle. When he finally released her, Kaetryn's knees wobbled and she almost fell over. Anders sighed with a big smile. "Alistair is a fool for ever letting a silly little monarchy get in the way of _that_." He spun and hauled the heavy, iron door open and turned to face her one last time. "Remember what I taught you about healing magic, and you should be fine. Ser-Pounce-A-Lot will sit on your head if he's hungry, and do make sure he gets the odd scrap of rabbit or lamb from the kitchen-it's his favourite. May the Maker keep you safe Kae, from the Darkspawn and the Templars; it's only a matter of time before they overlook your heroic deeds and decide they need to put a leash on _you_ as well." He zipped through the door, and shimmied provocatively down the hall while humming to himself about freedom, eager to be on the run once again. And he then he was gone, this time for good.

Some merchants found the bodies of Rolan and the Templar, only identifiable by his shield bearing the flaming sword of Andraste, a week later. Since the Templars were unable to find a third body, they reached the conclusion that Anders fell victim to the influence of demons an was now and abomination loose somewhere in the Bannorn. They marched to Amaranthine immediately and demanded retribution from the Wardens. It wasn't long before Kaetryn grew tired of pretending to be concerned, and even more tired of sending her men out on wild goose chases to look for him. Eventually the Templars gave up their chase, but unbeknownst to Kaetryn, the Order of the Grey did not. Once word had reached them of his desertion, the kept their ears open for any whispers of an apostate claiming to have once been a Warden. Anders was never seen in Ferelden again.

"I had no idea that Anders was leaving, nor do I have any inkling of his motives for murdering Rolan and that Templar who _mysteriously_ found his way into the Warden's camp," Kaetryn said carefully.

"So you believe him to have been responsible for their deaths?" Teris shot back accusingly.

"Well I can only go by what the Templars told me, as they had destroyed any evidence of the altercation before I could witness it myself." Kaetryn returned to her seat at the table and folded her hands neatly. "I truly don't think Anders would have done something like that without a damned good reason, ser."

"Regardless of your personal opinions, this matter still represents a great inconvenience for us. I trust that if you ever regain contact with Anders, you will do your best to apprehend him?" Teris said flatly.

Kaetryn giggled to herself. "Yes, ser." It wasn't a lie; he owed her some answers.

The meeting within the Aerie did not last for much longer, and Kaetryn's presence was largely ignored for the remainder. When she was dismissed, she began to explore the lower reaches of Weisshaupt due to a lack of appetite and a better idea of how to fill the rest of her evening. The halls below ground level were largely empty and unused, save for a few cellars used to store archaic weaponry, tomes, and casks of wine and ale. The lower she climbs, the cooler and heavier the air became. Finally she reached what she thought was a dead end, but upon closer inspection of wall at the end of the corridor, she discovered it to be a large door of blackened Silverite, and a triumphant griffon in mid-flight, a bloody sword impaled in its chest. The words "Krypta der Geehrt" were inscribed in the stonework above it.


	8. Chapter 7

"_Blessed are they, who stand before_ _the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter_."

"Maker forgive me; I am a man whose heart has been divided," muttered a elderly man as he knelt in prayer. Thousands of red and gold candles lit up the Grand Cathedral, the rosey sunset filling the coloured glass in the yawning windows that lined the walls. The Cathedral itself was almost uninhabited, but the intonation of a Chanter rang throughout the emptiness, his voice filling the high stone ceiling from one end of the hall to the other.

"_Blessed are the peacekeepers, champions of the just_."

"If my Order won't forgive my trespasses, then may you and your blessed bride find mercy and compassion where mere men cannot," he sighed, pressing his clasped his hands to his forehead. His eyes slide upward to the face of the gilded statue of Andraste that stood behind the alter. She gazed up at the heavens in rapture, as she clutched the holy flame close to her breast. He was ageing faster than he liked, his grey eyes and gaunt skin highlighted by silvered hair. His once proud stature now stood slightly humbled, and his arms were no longer able to wield a sword and shield with the prowess of his youth.

"_Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow_."

"I can no longer fulfil my calling, so I beg of you, O Maker. Give me a purpose and I will spend the rest of my life-"

"Monsieur Gravois?" came the quiet, demure voice of a Sister, her plain face set in sharp contrast to her ostentatious Chantry robes. Aleron started; he had been so deep in prayer that he did not hear her soft, padded footsteps approach him from the front of the cathedral. "Please come with me. Revered Mother Dorothea wishes to speak with you privately." After a moment of consideration, he nodded as he rose to his feet to follow her. She whisked away quietly, and he struggled to keep up.

"_In their blood, the Maker's will is written_."

There was no latch on the door to speak of, but it swung open with surprising ease when Kaetryn pushed on it. Her loose hair tickled her cheeks as the air flooded into the room. When the rushing sounds ceased reverberating off the stone walls, Kaetryn was engulfed in a deep silence, and the darkness within called to her. Gingerly, she crossed the threshold, but froze as she felt a small tug from beyond the Fade-just a tiny thread, the faintest of sensations at the edge of her mind. Before she could react, the torches mounted on the walls throughout the room burst into life, and the small cellar was bathed in a dim light.

Squinting, Kaetryn paused at the door as she waited for her eyes to adjust. As the shadows began to take shape in her vision, she noted the perfect square shape of the room, and the circular orientation of the room's furnishings. The air was borderline frigid, and stank of earth and decay. Slowly inching forward, she placed her hand upon wall, and was surprised to feel cold dirt on her fingertips. Upon closer inspection, tightly tangled webs of tree roots lined the walls and floor, and Kaetryn stroked a particularly large tuber. It felt as hard as stone, and just as cold, and devoid of life. It was a large stretch of the imagination; to envision a time when such ancient, deep-reaching trees inhabited the now desolate Anderfellian steppes. She turned her attention to the ornate stone structures arranged in the centre of the room. From a small distance, they appeared to be decorated stone blocks, and nothing more. Kaetryn blinked in the dusty dim light, and with a growing surprise realised what she was seeing. Five of the tombs were decorated rather austerely save for one, which had thorny vines and intricate flowers hewn into it's smooth surface. Kaetryn slowly approached it, swiping her hand quickly over the head of the sepulchre, and gasped as a thick layer of heavy dust and dirt scattered to the floor.

"Garahel," Kaetryn exclaimed in quiet reverence, stunned to have merely stumbled upon the resting place of the Grey Warden who had slain an Archdemon in 5:24 Exalted at the fabled Battle of Ayesleigh.

It was strange to think of a skeleton immortalized within a stone box, rather than simply be put to the pyres. Looking around quickly, she dashed to the next decorated marble platform, and gently ran her hand across its ancient surface. It was much older than Garahel's tomb; black spots of a wasting mould had collected along its edges. Blowing gently, dust billowed away and the name "Corin" could be seen etched in the centre of the slab. Searching quickly, she spotted a tomb with only a hint of dirt collected on it. Kaetryn stepped over to it slowly, but she saw the name carved into the stone before she had reached it completely.

"Riordan," she breathed, frozen in place. An odd mixture of guilt and relief washed over her. In truth, Riordan had died before the Archdemon could be slain, though Alistair could not have killed it were it not for his sacrifice.

"Ah, you're both here. Good," Riordan said with a faint Orlesian accent as he spotted Alistair and Kaetryn shuffle restlessly into his bed chambers. They're gaunt faces and sullen expression spoke of many haunted dreams and sleepless nights. The Archdemon was growing more powerful, venturing to the surface more frequently, and the Horde had poured out of the Korcari Wilds like a cloud of death, beginning its march on Ferelden. Alistair slouched impatiently in front of him, while Kaetryn slipped away to stand near the hearth, seemingly repelled by the Prince's company. "You're both new to the Grey Wardens, and I fear that you both have not been told how an Archdemon is slain. I need to know if that is so."

"You mean there's more to it than say... chopping off its head?" Alistair sighed wearily. Kaetryn remained silent, fixated by the flames within the fireplace.

"So it is true," Riordan frowned. "Duncan had not yet told you. I had simply assumed..." Shaking his head in dismay, Riordan angled his body so that he could face them both, choosing his words carefully. "Tell me, Kaetryn. Have you ever wondered why the Grey Wardens are needed to defeat the Darkspawn?"

Kaetryn's attention snapped back to the room in Redcliffe castle where she stood, and she gazed at Riordan in muted confusion. Her reaction time had slowed considerably since she stopped being able to sleep, and Alistair's heart-wrenching presence only served to muddle her mind further. After a moment she shook her head and returned to gazing into the warmth of the fire. "I assume it has something to do with the taint inside of us," she snapped, tired and cranky.

"That is exactly what it involves," Riordan nodded. "The Archdemon may be slain as any other Darkspawn, but should anyone but a Grey Warden deliver the final blow, it will not be enough. The essence of the beast will pass through the Fade, and possess the nearest Darkspawn, being reborn anew in that body. The Dragon is thus all but immortal." Alistair stared at Riordan in horror, Kaetryn ground her teeth with her fists clenched, unwilling to receive any more difficult news. "But if the Archdemon is slain by a Grey Warden, it's essence is drawn to him instead of another Darkspawn."

"And...what happens to the Grey Warden?" Kaetryn asked quietly. She was sure that she already knew the answer.

Riordan paused, searching for the proper wording. "A Darkspawn is an empty, soulless vessel, but a Grey Warden is not. The essence of the Archdemon is destroyed, and so is the Grey Warden."

"Meaning..," Alistair murmured as he took a step towards Kaetryn. "The Grey Warden who kills the Archdemon just... dies?"

Seeing the shock in their faces, Riordan was reminded when he too had learned of the secret reality of being a Warden. "Yes," he said definitively. "Without the Archdemon, the Blight ends. It is the only way."

Many thoughts came to her mind at once; outrage, hopelessness, but only two seemed to be important. Alistair needed to live so that he could become King of Ferelden, his birthright and Maker-given responsibility. Riordan was a senior Warden, and since he was the only one in all of Ferelden, he needed to restore the Order's presence within its borders. It would all come down to her. Suddenly, she was terrified. "I-is there no other way? Must I really die for all of this to stop?"

Riordan smiled slightly, but his eyes were filled with sadness. "It warms my heart to see such courage, but do not hurry to sacrifice your life so, young lady. If possible, the sacrifice should be mine to make. I am the eldest, and the taint will not spare me much longer." Kaetryn exhaled sharply, half relief, and half despair. "However if I should fail, the deed falls on you two." He crossed the room to where a map of Northeastern Ferelden was pinned to a old, wooden table. He examined it quickly, running his hands over the charcoal X's that marked villages that the Horde had already decimated. "The Blight must be stopped now, or it will destroy all of Ferelden before the rest of the Grey Wardens can assemble. Remember that."

A sudden chill filled her entire body, as her brain struggled to react quickly enough to the cold, wet sensation that enveloped her right hand. Kaetryn spun around, hollering in surprise. In her immediate vision, she saw no one, but a soft panting sound beneath her caught her attention, and suddenly she was looking into the soft brown eyes of one of the largest Mabari hounds she had ever seen. With lips pulled back into clownish smile, her tongue dangled out the side of her maw, drool slowly dripping it's way to the floor. After her heart rate returned to normal, Kaetryn couldn't help but laugh. She stooped low as the Mabari rolled onto her back, exposing a soft, tan tummy for a proper scratch. When she was finished, the dog pressed her black muzzle up to Kaetryn's face and dragged her long tongue across the length of her cheek.

"Oi!" came an angry holler. "Git aweigh wit ya wee beastie!"

Kaetryn looked towards the open door just in time to see a stout, older man barge into the room. His gingered hair had faded to a soft orange, tinged with white along his sides of his face and beard, and he wore a soft, black leather patch over his left eye. By his accent, she guessed he hailed from somewhere in the Northern reaches of the Free Marches, and it sounded oddly familiar. In the light, she could make out an angular, banded pattern along the lower fringe of his tunic. Kaetryn rose to her full height as the Mabari huffed and slowly sauntered over to the man's side, the clicking of her nails echoing around the room.

"Is this your Mabari?" Kaetryn asked. "I thought they were a rare sight outside of Ferelden. Are they common in..?"

"Starkhaven, m'lady," the man replied gruffly. "An no, 'e isn mine. Aye apologize if 'e's hurt yuh."

"Not at all," Kaetryn smiled warmly. "She's lovely. Reminds me of home."

"She?" Cathal asked in surprise? "Tha wee beastie is a girl?"

"Of course! Can't you tell? She's so pretty," Kaetryn giggled. The dog sat on her haunches, and gazed up at Cathal's incredulous face with amused sarcasm, her face remarkably expressive for a hound.

After a moment Cathal shook his head, placing his hand gently on the dog's head. "Aye, then. Yew must be tha Commandar from Ferelden," the man said with a knowing smile. "Ma name's Cathal."

Now she knew why his voice sounded familiar-it was the man who had been obscured by the light, the one who reeked of dog and smoke. "Cathal," she repeated. "Pleased to meet you." She extended her arm and Cathal whole-heartedly clasped it. The Mabari barked cheerfully, a low chuff. Kaetryn got down on one knee, and the Mabari met her gaze directly. It placed its large paw on her shoulder, the weight of which almost pushed Kaetryn over. She smiled and looked up to Cathal. "What's her name?"

"Aye told yuh, the beastie t'aint mine," Cathal sighed grumpily. The dog shot his an exasperated look, but wagged her tail lovingly.

The Wardens had had a few Mabari join their ranks over the ages, but Kaetryn couldn't recall what any of their names had been. However, she remembered a story that Duncan had shared one night while they had travelled to Ostagar, shortly after her Joining. It told of his youth amongst the Wardens, and of an Avvarian Ash Warrior, a man trained to fight alongside a Mabari, who had served beside him. "How about Kell?" Kaetryn said. The dog's head cocked to the side curiously. "I once heard a tale about a fearsome man, honourably brave, who fought with the might of a Mabari, and died heroically to protect his friends. Sounds like the perfect namesake for such a warrior who is so loyal and adorable!"

Kell barked approvingly, and Kaetryn laughed.

"Anyweigh," Cathal grumbled, rolling his eyes as Kaetryn fawned over the dog. "Aye jus come 'ere to pay my respects buhfore aye leave."

Kaetryn nodded and stood up, patting Kell affectionately before turning to face Riordan's tomb one last time. She knew Riordan would have disapproved of the choices she and Alistair had made that night, but the guilt she felt towards deceiving the Wardens was quickly replaced with relief. Had it been Alistair's name that was etched into the cold marble slab that laid before her, she knew she'd have spent the rest of her life in mourning. Nodding respectfully to Cathal, she strode quickly to the stairwell, eager for her business in Weisshaupt to be complete. On a whim, she passed by the kitchen hoping there would be some more lamb and pea stew. There, she spotted Colin speaking with Maralyn quickly in a hushed voice.

"I don't think I could have asked for better company," Kaetryn smiled warmly as she took a few steps into the warm, savoury smelling room, brushing the last of the Mabari hair off the sleeves of her robes. She stopped short when Colin turned to face her, his face grim, and Maralyn turned away, a small tear twinkled in the corner of her eye. "What's happened?" she asked coldly.

Colin just looked at her for a moment, as if he were trying to memorize every detail of her face. It was almost a minute before he spoke. "Officially, nothing has happened yet. But I have heard whispers that your wish has been granted."

Despite the glowing coals in the hearth, Kaetryn felt a familiar chill trickle down her spine.

"Ze Revered Mother will receive you now," came the mousy whisper of an Initiate.

Aleron nodded, and quietly tip-toed into the small but grande room above the chapel. A large, stained glass window sprinkled pale colours against the walls, and the small fire that burned within a gilded hearth illuminated the dark wood furnishings. A slight woman with grey hair sat at a desk, many books and candles all but obscured her from Aleron's eyes. He stood before her quietly, waiting for her to acknowledge his presence. Eventually, she cleared her throat and stood, her gold and crimson robes rustling as she did.

"Monsieur Gravois, thank you for agreeing to meet with me," she said softly, her voice commanding immense power.

"Please, Your Reverence, mon nom est Aleron, and I do as the Maker bids," Aleron said as he bowed low.

Dorothea smiled warmly. "I see no point in wasting time with pleasantries and formality; I shall get right to the point. Please, have a seat."

Aleron did as she asked, and the Revered Mother returned to her desk. "If you are the sort to take note of idle gossip, it should come as no surprise to you that the Divine, may the Maker cherish her soul, has taken ill, and it is feared that she will pass on shortly."

Aleron frowned, but Dorothea did not wait to hear his condolences. "I am have come to Val Royeaux because I have received word that Her Perfection wishes to name me as her successor." Surprise coloured Aleron's gaunt face. It was unusual for a Revered Mother to be named Divine, as the honour usually went to the senior Grand Cleric.

With a demur chuckle, Dorothea sighed. "Her Perfection and I have similar philosophies, and she wishes for me to continue her work when she passes on; it's as simple as that. But I did not call you here to discuss my ideology, but rather yours." Dorothea's smile disappeared as she became solemn. "A disgraced chevalier-a rare thing to find alive." Aleron blanched in shame. "I am told that the Empress spared your life because the treachery you committed ultimately served Orlais in the end," Dorothea stated matter-of-factly.

"It's true; I am fortunate that the Empress chose to spare me," Aleron muttered sullenly. "But she forbade me to ever speak of it, to live in silence and destitute rather than die in shame in dishonour and..."

"I would ask that you speak of it now," Dorothea said flatly.

Aleron's mouth snapped shut in surprise, and he stared in surprise at the petite woman, but he paused only a moment before answering. "When Ferelden won its independence, those that had heavily invested in Orlais' victory had lost their fortunes over night." Aleron paused to grind his teeth angrily. "It wasn't long before my liege began to scheme along with his fellow nobles, finding ways in which to manipulate Ferelden politics from afar. It wasn't my place to interfere in his affairs, but when he began ordering me to attack Ferelden ambassadors, intercepting caravans from the Empress herself, I warned him to stop. Orlais was to see peace with Ferelden-that is what we were all told. I betrayed my liege, but as a denizen of Orlais, I served my country by exposing his greed."

"And you serve the Maker above everything else," Dorothea said with a pleased smile. Aleron just stared at her, unsure of what to say. "I can tell you are among the most devote of Andrastians. Most in your position would spend the rest of their lives trying to regain their status and riches, where as you spend you days in prayer, asking forgiveness of the Maker. Furthermore, the Empress commanded that you hold your secrets on pain of death, and yet you chose death simply because I asked it of you."

Aleron looked down at his hands, wrinkled and callused, and realised that she was right. "We all serve the Maker in the end," he whispered.

The Revered Mother smiled, and rose to her feet. She walked quietly over to Aleron's side, placing a gently consoling hand on his shoulder. "I have a better way for you to serve the Maker, a calling befit only of a man of such faith and devotion."

Aleron gazed upwards into her soft blue eyes, and it was there that he found his redemption.


End file.
